I Wish I Weren't the President
by Kaarina Helvete
Summary: Who exactly is Rufus Shinra? What happened to make him the cold-hearted, fear-mongering president that he is in FFVII? That's not his true face, I say. He's got a heart, and I'll show it to you. Rated T for violence and strong language, I think.
1. What Started It All

Hello there everybody, 'tis Kaarina with her second fanfiction ever =D This one's about Rufus, the most badass guy in FFVII. I know he doesn't get much screentime in the whole story until Advent Children, and he kinda looks like an arrogant dictator, so I just wanted to delve into his character a little more. What exactly happened to him that made him into the cold-hearted, fear-mongering president that he is in FFVII? That can't be his true face, no no. Rufus has a heart, you'll see =D Although I'm not very good at this drama/angst stuff, gimme a break, okay?

Oh yes, and before I forget, I haven't played any of the games before. I think I got to Costa Del Sol in the original game, and that's it. I've seen AC and watched all the cutscenes for Crisis Core, FFVII, and Dirge of Cerberus. I have done very little research on the events before FFVII ^_^; And so, I'm going with educated guesses made by me or other people. I guess you could say it's a bit of an AU (Alternate Universe, right? ^_^;), but eh... this is just a disclaimer, so I don't look like a retard for not knowing anything. Well then, you won't have any more of these boring introductions for future chapters, so you can go enjoy =D

* * *

What Started It All

The curtains swayed as a cool breeze blew through the pen window, the soft morning light filling the room. A figure stirred under the red satin sheets; it was getting late, and he had to get up soon if he wanted to be on time for once. Another figure shifted, revealing that he was not alone. The man finally sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, then groaned as he stretched his arms above his head and yawned. He pulled back the sheets and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, touching soft, white carpet. He sat there for a while, forcing the sleep from his eyes.

"This is a miracle; you've awakened without me nagging you for once." She woman lifted her head and rested it on her hands, facing the man. She was unnaturally beautiful for just waking up, with her bright smile, piercing blue eyes, and the sun shining on her dark brown hair, causing it to glow. She looked almost angelic.

"Yes well, if I'm late today, nobody in the world will forgive me." The man turned around and smiled back. He had short blond hair, dark green eyes, and a sharp, powerful face. After a quick smile, he turned back around, and rubbed his eyes some more, grunting.

"What's wrong? Asked the woman. It couldn't have been her, could it?

"The sun was right in my eyes..." the man replied.

"Well then, don't stare at the sun! You'll damage your eyes that way."

"The man smiled. "Why, I just couldn't resist turning to get even a glimpse of your beautiful face, my love." He leaned over and planted a peck on her cheek.

"Oh, you're so charming today." The woman replied. She sat up and kissed the man right on the lips, eyes closed.

"So are you." The man said with a chuckle. "I need to get ready. Remember to wake Rufus, okay?"

"Yes, yes..." the woman said. "You know how cranky he gets when he doesn't have time to wake up before doing anything physical. Just like someone I know..."

"Hah hah, I need a shower. Go wake him." He kissed her once more, then stood and stretched once more. He crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom.

The woman sighed, and pulled herself out of bed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, ran her fingers through her silky brown hair. She also crossed the room to the exit, opened, the door, and crossed the hall to her son's room. He wasn't going to be happy about being awakened, especially with the intensity of the sun shining right through his window. She grasped the brass doorknob, and twisted it until the door clicked open, revealing a brightly lit room, the walls a baby blue color. There was a white, wooden crib next to the far window, in which a sleeping child lay. He had golden blond hair, fair skin, and looked to be about four years old. In fact, his birthday celebration was to be the next week when he would, in fact, turn four years old.

"Rufus... hello sleepy-head." She ran her fingers through the boy's soft hair, and he stirred. There was a small, childlike grumble, and he opened his eyes. They were the same piercing blue as his mother's, full of deep thoughts and emotions. At least that's how they usually were, however, at the time they were full of irritation. The boy squinted in the light, and whined.

"Come on, you have to get up some time." She picked him up gently, and held the small boy in her arms. He was limp, but slowly regaining consciousness.

"Do you remember what day it is?" The boy shook his head sleepily, while rubbing his eyes. The young mother responded in a surprised tone. "Why Rufus Shinra, how could you forget the first day you get to ride in a parade?" The boy looked straight at her, confused. "There now, let's get you dressed and fed. We don't want to be late, do we?" She walked out of the room, and closed the door behind her.

She walked down the hall to the kitchen. Her maid, a young girl of Wutaian descent, was cooking breakfast rather frantically. She noticed the woman who had just entered the room. "Oh my, I'm so sorry!" The girl apologized and ran around the counter and took Rufus in her arms. "I promised to wake up early and take care of him, and my alarm—oh, I'm such a dunce!"

"Oh, never mind that Yori, I usually wake him anyway. Just take care of everything while I get ready? The tousled the boy's hair, and pecked him on the nose. "I'll be right back, okay? Be a good boy, no complaining." She turned and left for the bedroom again. The maid watched as the woman left, and sighed.

"Whew, I thought I was done for. If it weren't for your mother's kind heart, I would be out living in the sector 6 slums still. I don't understand why they don't hire more servants, let alone me." She looked at the boy she held in her arms. "What do you want to wear today? How about the brand new suit you just got?"

The boy grumbled, and said, "It's too tight."

"Now now, it fits you perfectly. It's just a little restricting, that's all. That's how suits are; they're made to look good. And you look simply _adorable_!" She brought her hand up and pinched his cheek, all the while squealing about his apparent cuteness. Rufus was too tired to do anything but grumble. And with that, the young maid took him to his dressing room.

Thirty minutes later, the man came out of the bathroom with a red towel wrapped around his waist. He turned to the dressing room next to the bathroom; he and his wife used a different one than their son. He stepped through the open doorway, and over to his closet.

"Is that you, honey?" The woman called from behind a screen. Apparently, she had begun dressing before he did; she took her baths at night, when there was no rush and she could relax.

"Yes, it's me." The man said with a smile. He slid open the closet doors, and started shuffling through his suits. "What to wear, what to wear…" he mumbled.

"Do you need help?" Asked the woman, chuckling.

"No, I think a thirty-five year old man can manage picking out his own clothes. Do _you_ need help?"

"Please, don't even _think_ about it…" she laughed.

"It was worth a try, right?"

"Get dressed, you have a big day today."

"Yes mother…" He chose his favorite red suit, and stepped behind his screen.

He came out from behind the partition, fumbling with his tie. He almost gave up, and looked up to see his wife, standing with her back towards him. She faced the mirror, and fumbled with her necklace. She wore a flowing, sleeveless, light blue dress that hugged her slight frame. The man let go of his tie, and walked towards her.

"I told you, I didn't need help." She said.

"Everybody needs help from time to time." He grasped the two ends of her necklace, and connected them.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She woman sighed, obviously conceding. She turned to face him, a smug look on her face. "It looks like you could also use some assistance." She chuckled.

The man sighed, defeated. "Please, oh goddess, help this powerless, hopeless man with the tying of his necktie. I am entirely at your mercy." The woman laughed at this remark, and grabbed his necktie.

"Now, that's not how the president of Shinra Incorporated is supposed to act." She said with a chuckle."

"It's called sarcasm, heard of it?"

"Yes, I'm quite familiar with it, thank you." She finished with his tie, leaving the president looking rather spiffy. There was one problem though.

"Do you really have to wear that red suit? It isn't very appealing to the eyes…"

"Nonsense, my tailor said it looked _marvelous_."

"Maybe he didn't want to upset you, considering you love the color red."

The man paused for a moment, then said, "Well, I feel confident in this suit. I stick out among a crowd, and I look powerful, don't I?"

"I think it looks like you're on fire." The man pouted in response. "But, I'm sure it's more important to look powerful and confident in front of the whole world." She said quickly. "You look fine, nobody's going to care when they see their new leader, the very symbol of a better world."

The man's face lit up, and he pulled his wife close. "Thank you." He said. He lifted her chin, and kissed her. Right about that time, the maid came and knocked on the door.

"Excuse me, Mr. And Mrs. Shinra, your transport will arrive in thirty minutes. I suggest you both wrap up what you're doing and come get breakfast..." The two broke from their embrace.

"Yes mother!" Yelled the president.

"I thought _I_ was your mother! You can't go around with two mothers."

"I think I'd rather have _her_ as a mother--"

"Oh, shut up!" The woman laughed, and pulled him towards the door. "Come on, we've got to go soon."

They both reached the private dining room, with a small wooden table fit for the three of them. Rufus was already sitting in one of the chairs, with his eyes barely peeking over the edge of the table.

"I'm so sorry, I'm in such a hurry right now, I can't seem to do anything right!" The maid ran to get Rufus his booster seat, so he could actually reach his food.

"Oh, I think you're doing fine, the food smells amazing." Said the woman. She sat down next to Rufus, picked him up and set him on her lap, so Yori could set the seat down on the chair. She put him back when the maid went to get the food. "That's better now, don't you think?" Rufus was still waking up, so he didn't answer. The president sat on the other side of him and waited patiently.

"I'm so sorry, I have no excuse for being late, I really don't--"

"Please, Yori! You're amazing as it is. You do all of the chores, and cook all the meals. I _think_ we can forgive a few little mishaps." The woman replied.

"But my work was so shoddy today! I'll need to redo all of it after you leave." She set down the dishes. Today's menu included pancakes, bacon, potatoes, and bowls of fresh fruit.

"Yori, you're amazing. I can't imagine _how_ you find the time to make all of this, _and_ do the chores. The house is always so clean, I don't think it will be necessary to do the chores another time." said the president. Yori looked astounded.

"U—uh, thank you very much, Mr. President. I don't deserve such praise."

"What you don't deserve is to turn away such praise." Yori looked even more shocked. "No, you haven't done anything wrong, I'm just telling you the truth. You're amazing."

The girl's face turned a deep red color; she was speechless.

"I _love_ the shade of red your face is, by the way." The girl gasped, bowed to the family, and left the room, stiffly.

"What she doesn't deserve is you picking on her all the time! You know how hard she works..." scolded the mother.

"I guess you're right. I mean, she was able to get a half-asleep Rufus into his clothes without much fuss, am I right?" He chuckled, and tousled his son's hair, which caused the latter to groan.

"Oh,.stop playing and eat your breakfast, we haven't much time!"

"Yes mother."

* * *

Sure enough, thirty minutes later a private coach arrived at the front of the Shinra estate. The family was on time getting on the road, surprisingly. It was a short ride to the beginning of the parade, where they were all treated with the utmost respect. Everyone was in a hurry, however, to get the parade started, and they were rushed aboard their float. It looked like a cruise ship made of tissue paper, basically, but it kept the crowd cheering when it passed by. With the light-colored float he was riding on, the president really did stick out like a sore thumb. I seemed nobody cared though. Here was the president of Shinra Inc., and practically the whole world.

Of course the most important family in the world had the most important float, so they were the first ones to enter the parade. After that was the Mayor's float, followed by Weapon's Development and Urban Development. Nobody seemed as excited about weapons as the president, but what came after that was much more interesting. On this day, many different departments were being introduced to the public, including Space Exploration. Although that in itself was amazing and unheard of, the main event of the day would be the announcement of the new SOLDIER program. The people had long heard stories of super humans with glowing blue eyes, and were finally getting a glimpse of them. These SOLDIERs would be used to protect the poor people of the world who could not help themselves, especially since relations with Wutai were becoming a bit strained. Thousands of people had gathered to see the renowned SOLDIER program come to live, officially.

The parade went on predictably, with no complications to set it back. The people were throwing confetti from their balconies, and children bounced up and down, cheering. Small stands sold food, balloons, and other carnival items. There was a carnival, in fact, that would be held after the parade, right in the middle of the city. It seemed every person in Midgar was lined up along the street, waiting their turn to see the famous SOLDIERs. When the float finally came by—after many small and rather useless floats that were mainly for decoration—the people screamed and yelled, and threw even more confetti at the float. Standing there were five SOLDIERS, four looking rather generic, save for their massive muscles. They looked to be in their early or mid twenties, a young group; they must have been trained from a young age. The final SOLDIER was young boy with silver hair. He looked to be about thirteen, _much_ younger than the rest of them. Although he was younger, his physique far surpassed that of a thirteen year old boy. Standing behind him was a scientist in a white lab coat. He had black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and glasses framed small, beady eyes. He seemed to be frowning with great distaste, although none of the spectators could really tell from their distance. It seemed that he didn't like being shown off in front of so many people. The SOLDIERs all had rock solid expressions; none of them moved a muscle, except for one; he seemed to be having trouble keeping that way. Discipline is a hard thing, it seems.

While the whole crowd was in an uproar about the SOLDIERs, the president and his family neared the end of the parade. At the end, a platform stood waiting for them; this would be the final stage, where the SOLDIERs would be announced officially. Much of the crowd tried following the parade, but not everyone could fit into the square behind the floats. Though it would be easier when the floats were taken out to be stored for next time. When the time came for the parade to end, the Shinra family stepped off the float and onto the platform, and waited for the SOLDIERs to catch up.

"There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Asked the president's wife. Rufus was more than wide awake at this time, and jumped up and down beside her, tugging on her dress constantly.

"I'm starting to regret wearing this suit. I'm sweating like hell--"

"Don't swear in front of Rufus! You know how easily children pick up bad language... Rufus, please stop tugging my dress, it's delicate!"

The man looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry... but it's true! I don't want to look unprofessional, but--"

"Oh no you don't." The woman interrupted. "You are _not_ taking that jacket off in front of all these people. You made the decision to wear it, and you'll suffer the consequences."

The man's face showed a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "I thought the whole reason I wore it was to be comfortable--"

"I don't want to hear it!" the woman interrupted once again. "Just deal with it for a little while longer—look, there's the float right now!" She pointed towards the oncoming parade, indicating its impending end. Rufus turned, and his gaze followed his mother's gesture.

He gasped. "Look, daddy, it's the best SOLDIERs in the whole program! They're so cool—even cooler than the Turks!" He danced around, pulling his mother's arm with him.

"Rufus, calm down! You're going to rip my arm, just like my dress."She said with exasperation.

At the thought of tearing his mother's arm off, Rufus stopped suddenly and looked up at his mother's face with wide eyes. He whimpered, "Mommy no, did I rip it? I didn't rip it did I? He began examining his mother's arm.

"No, it's fine, really. Just don't jump around like that, please. Here they come!"

With the short attention span of a four-year-old, Rufus whipped his head in the direction of the float once again. He smiled widely, as the enormous men in uniform advanced ever closer. He noticed the boy with silver hair, in the same uniform.

He looked around his mother", and gave his father a confused look. Daddy, who's that boy? Is he a SOLDIER too?

The president smirked. "Yes, he's one of the best. I'm expecting great things from him."

The boy looked confused, despite his father's explanation. "I've never seen him before, though. All the others I have once." He turned back to the SOLDIERs. They were close now, about two hundred feet from the platform, and moving slowly. He could hardly wait to actually see a real SOLDIER in person; he had only seen them at a distance, or on a screen. The wait mas killing him.

His mother smiled as the float came closer, then looked out at the crowd. She had to look interested in the crowd. _Just smile and wave._ She thought. _It will all be over soon._ She waved to a little girl in front, who looked ecstatic to be viewing the most important people in the world at the moment. The young mother smiled at the young girl's happiness, and turned away, looking at the people in the balconies. They were starting to run out of confetti, but they were still cheering louder than ever. She smiled and waved at them, practically drowning in the cheers of onlookers

She noticed one person on the roof next to a chimney, sitting quietly, but smiling. He looked to be in his early twenties, with short, brown-red hair. He wore glasses, and looked to be talking on a cell phone. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, until he glanced at her. He looked away, then looked back again. His smile dropped from his face, and his eyes grew wide. He spoke frantically into the cell phone, but kept calm. He regained his composure, and closed the phone. He smiled at the president's wife, then got up to join another group of people on the roof. He began cheering and screaming along with everyone else after that.

The woman was uneasy. That look of shock in the young man's eyes got to her somehow; she had a bad feeling about all of this. The float moved ever so slowly.. for some reason, she felt like she was running out of time. She urged for the float to move faster, so everything could just end, and she could get home, where it was safe. She looked up at her husband, who was smiling with great admiration and satisfaction. _No, it's probably just a feeling. I don't want to make a scene my voicing my worries._ She thought._ It's almost over, soon the Turks will be here to escort us away, and we'll be safe. There might even be anything wrong—_She paused. What if that man was just embarrassed that she was staring at him? She mentally slapped herself for worrying. Everything would be fine, she decided. _Just try to enjoy it, have fun._ She thought to herself. She felt much better.

At that moment, her stomach dropped. She _knew_ something was wrong this time. She looked over her shoulder slowly, a concerned look on her face. She tried to hide it, but she was truly frightened this time. She turned more, causing Rufus to look up at her. He saw the worry on her face, and stopped smiling.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" He asked, concerned. "What are you looking at?"

The young woman didn't hear him. She was scanning the balconies for something, _anything_ that would help confirm her feelings. Was something really wrong, or was it just her own paranoia?

"Mommy, why won't you answer me?" Rufus cried. Tears formed in his eyes; he wasn't used to his mother being worried. What was wrong? He looked up at the balconies and roofs, trying to see what his mother was so worried about. Then he saw it. He saw it, but didn't know that he did. His mother, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on. A man crouched down on one side of the roof, and spoke a few words into his cell phone. Then he looked up, and have a small thumbs-up signal to someone on the roof. The frightened mother scanned where the man was looking, almost crying from fright. Her breathing stopped as she found what she was looking for.

A rifle barrel was sticking out from behind a chimney.

She gasped, and pulled on her husband's arm. "H-honey, were there any soldiers or Turks stationed here?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "No, we figured the SOLDIERs here would be enough. The Turks don't need any publicity."

"No, I mean for _security_." The woman answered worriedly.

The man looked at her skeptically. "What are you worried about? Look, the SOLDIERs are almost here, they can take care of anything that goes wrong, okay?"

"I'm worried, because there's a..." She turned back to see a man's face looking around the chimney. He looked startled. He darted back around the chimney when he noticed that she had spotted him.

"Honey, there was a gun, I saw it!" She urged.

The man frowned. "I thought the Turks were all out at Junon... except for Veld, of course. Could they have completed the mission that quickly?"

The woman was almost shaking. She stared at the chimney, her gaze fixed on that one spot. It looked like she would have to deal with her fear; sometimes her husband just wouldn't listen. Although, it should have been a Turk, she supposed. She still; wished the float would move faster. It was still about a hundred feet away.

The face came out from behind the chimney once again, and she jumped. The man looked frustrated, like he really didn't want to be there. He pulled out his rifle again, and aimed. The woman gasped—He was aiming for her husband!

There wasn't time for thinking, only action. "Honey, move!" She pushed him out of the way, praying she had acted quickly enough.

She didn't even hear the gunshot.

* * *

Rufus was still scanning the roof when his mother shouted. His eyed darted to see his mother pushing his father. Why would she do that? Did his father do something wrong? He stepped towards his mother, slowly; everything seemed to be happening very slowly. Then he heard a shot. He jumped as blood splattered his white suit, and his mother's blue dress. He stood still as his mother fell and hit the platform. His father shouted, but Rufus couldn't understand what he was saying. All he was was his mother's pained face, growing more pale by the second. A red stain was growing on her chest—if she had just been splattered with blood, why was it spreading? Muffled shouts and screams filled his ears, screams unlike the cheering of the crowd. The people were afraid. What had happened?

His father was holding his mother in his arms, petting her head. Rufus stepped closer, until he knelt next to his mother. What was going on? His mother's pained, beautiful eyes, rested on his, and she reached out with a pale hand. He heard her voice very clearly.

"Rufus..."

He took her hand and held it tight. Was he trying to tell him something? Why did she sound so weak? Was she sick? He looked at the ever-growing red spot on her dress. It was huge now—she was almost drenched in the stuff now. His eyes widened. Was she hurt? What was that loud sound, and why did she collapse after it happened?

He looked back at her eyes, which were closed. His father, the most powerful man in the world, cried as he held her. Hi father was crying—he never cried. _Ever._ Not even when he dropped things on his toes, or cut his fingers. What had happened to Mother?

Was she dead?

Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks onto his suit. His lip quivered as he felt his mother's hand go limp in his. It was cold. Skin was never cold, at least when it was alive. He had held a dead animal before, his pet dog had been poisoned a year ago. It felt cold in his arms as he cried over it, mourning its death. Was that what had happened to Mother? He called for her, but she didn't answer. Just like when he called his pet's name, Rudy. He didn't like it. She was always there for him. Why did she want to leave him now, when he was so scared?

"Mommy, please wake up. Don't go..." he whimpered. "Please, I'll be good, I promise! Don't go! Mommy!" She wouldn't answer.

It was then when he knew that she would never answer. He'd never hear her warm voice, never see her smiling, glowing face ever again. He would forever remember her as cold, dead, and in pain. He gasped, and screamed.

He didn't even remember much of what happened after that. His father had stopped crying, and looked mad, angry even. The president had said a few words, and then a pair of hands grasped his, pulling him away. Rufus didn't like that at all. He kicked and screamed, demanding that he stay with his mother. She couldn't be dead, that was impossible. She even promised him once that she would always be there, so why were they taking him away? He watched as the crowd ran away, screaming, from of the town center. He watched as his mother's figure grew smaller and smaller.

He watched as he left part of his soul behind on that platform.


	2. Consequense

Hello peoples, sorry for the sooooooooper long wait! Here's chapter 2, finally. I totally lost all of my creativeness after the first chapter, so this fic died for a while. More like a loooong while... But now I sort of know what's going to happen! =D I hope... I need to read more into Before Crisis ^_^; Anyways, enjoy! Oh, and this is a long chapter, I'm sorry! I just HAD to write all of this, I couldn't make it any shorter. So bear with me, mmkay? I promise, you'll love it. And if you don't, tell me why, and you can kick me!

Disclaimer: I disclaim this disclaimer. Whoever wants it can have it =P

---

Consequence

Yori wiped her hands on her apron and sighed, looking around at her finished work. She smiled. It had taken most of the morning to finally finish her chores to her own satisfaction. She was practically a perfectionist when it came to her work. After all, it was the least she could do for Shinra's generosity. She walked towards the sofa, looking to sit down for a moment. She stopped right next to, remembering something.

"Hmm... They should be back in a while, which means they'll be hungry, right? And what would they think of walking in, and finding their maid resting on their comfortable sofa, and lunch still not made?" She turned away, looking towards the kitchen. "So silly of me, what's wrong with me today?" She walked towards the kitchen, thinking of what to make for lunch.

Around thirty minutes later, she was still deciding.

"Oh, what am I going to do?! I don't know what they'd like better, soup or sandwiches? Or something else, maybe? If I don't hurry, they'll be home before I'm done! Ohhh..." she fretted.

The door buzzer sounded, indicating that someone was at the door. She jumped. "Oh no... are they already home?! I'm finished, this is the last straw, I just know it..." She walked stiffly towards the door, ready to meet her doom. She stopped when she realized that beyond the door, someone was crying. She frowned; it sounded like her young master, Rufus. Then her eyes widened, and she whimpered. This was proof that the family had made it back sooner than expected. She pressed the security override button next to the door, and reached for the doorknob, regrettably.

She pulled open the door, her eyes on the floor. She raised her head, ready to meet the gaze of the president, and her impeding doom. What she saw startled her. It was indeed Rufus who was crying, that was obvious. The odd thing was that he was being held by someone other than his mother or father. She'd seen this man a few times before; his stern features left an impact on whoever laid eyes on him. He remained completely calm as Rufus sobbed over his shoulder, ultimately soaking it in tears. Though the head Turk did have a slight look of distaste in his eyes as he held the young boy.

Yori regained control of her thinking, and realized that she should probably do her job, and take care of the boy. "V-Veld, sir?!" She held out her arms. "Here, let me take him." The man held the small boy out for her to take. When the girl turned the white-clad boy around to place him against her shoulder, she saw there were was blood spatter on his clothes and a little on his face. She gasped quietly, and held the boy against her shoulder. She looked at the man in front of her, confused and worried. "Is he hurt?" The man shook his head. The girl was relieved, albeit just a little bit.

"Come in, make yourself at home. I'll take care of him, then I'll be right out." She stepped out of the way as the man entered, then closed the door behind him. The girl shuffled towards the back of the house, where the bathroom was. Rufus was still sobbing into her shoulder.

She tried to comfort him as much as possible, though it was difficult when she had such worry in her voice. She sat down on the toilet cover and held him as he cried. When she was certain she could speak without her voice quivering, she attempted to calm him. "Shh, calm down, it's alright. Everything's okay now. You're safe." She stroked his hair and rocked back and forth. He was merely whimpering now, though it sounded a lot quieter with her shoulder muffling the sounds. He got quieter still; it seemed that he was calming. She may have sat that way for hours if she hadn't noticed him trying to speak.

"Hmm? Rufus?" She wouldn't have been able to distinguish his words from whimpers if she hadn't felt his jaw moving against her shoulder. She pulled him away so she could look at his face, and hear his words. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

The boy brought his arm up to wipe his eyes. "Nobody... is telling me—sob—what's going on. They took me away, and mom..." He sobbed. "Where's my mommy? Nobody will tell me! I'm scared." He sobbed again. He resumed his whimpers, and Yori pulled him back against her shoulder.

"Shh... we'll find your mother, don't worry. We'll just get you cleaned up, then I'll figure out everything, okay?" Rufus nodded, his face still buried. "Okay then, I'll need you to hold yourself up, then." She stood up and sat him on the counter, reaching for a cloth. She wet part of it in the sink, and started to wipe the blood off his face. "Everything's okay, don't worry. We'll figure this out."

---

Veld stood patiently in the doorway, though he was anything but patient. Sometimes the president gave rather stupid orders, and there was nothing Veld could do about them. He was just a Turk. Turks didn't have opinions; they just did their job. If the president ordered him to babysit his son, then Veld would have to do so. His face twitched in frustration. He shouldn't be here, not now. He should be out leading the investigation. Otherwise, the culprit might get away. But he couldn't move; it was against his orders. And so, he coped with his impatience, and stood silent, unmoving.

It was about ten minutes before the girl came back out, wringing her hands in front of her nervously. She walked slowly towards to Turk, thinking of exactly how to word her question. She gave up on anything complicated, and simply asked, "What happened?"

There was no hesitation from the Turk, and no emotion in his voice. "There was an assassination attempt during the parade today. The president's wife is dead."

Yori's eyes widened, and she gasped. She was speechless for a moment.

Veld went on, "I have been ordered to guarantee his son's well-being. Is he safe?"

The girl snapped out of her shock. "Yes, he's sleeping. Oh..." She brought her hand up and ran her fingers through her hair, a pained expression on her face. "Who... who could have done this? His wife was a kind person, why would they want to kill her?"

Again, there was no hesitation. "It seems that she was trying to protect him. In other words, she gave her life to save his."

The girl's lip trembled as she fought off tears. She looked at the floor, holding her arms in front of her and shaking her head. "I don't understand... they're good people! Why would anyone want them dead?!" She lost the battle, allowing tears to stream down the sides of her face.

It was like this guy wasn't even human. "That's what we're trying to find out. The few Turks in the area are searching the city, looking for anyone suspicious." He shifted in place, the only action that hinted any sort of unease he might have felt. "I am to remain here until more security arrives."

Yori was silent for a moment. "How... how is the president doing?"

For the first time, the man hesitated. "He... he is quite well, given the circumstances. He is currently planning the funeral ceremony and the future of the company."

Yori was a bit shocked. It was so soon... was he really okay? She worried about that man; he worked too much. "Is there anything I can do?"

The hesitation was gone from the man's voice as quickly as it had revealed itself. "The best way would be for you to stay here, and continue to fulfill your duties, until further notice."

The girl looked up. "So... Rufus will be staying here, and I'm to care for him?"

"Precisely."

Worry crept over the girl's face once again. "What... what kind of security will be here?"

The Turk shifted again. "There should be a few infantrymen coming for now. They have their own supplies and such, so you won't need to worry about housing or feeding them. If need be, more security will be provided." As if on cue, a truck pulled up in front of the estate, and one of the said infantrymen jumped out of the back, shouting some orders. "It seems the time has come for me to leave. Good day to you, miss." The Turk did a half-bow, and let himself out the door.

"Oh... how could this happen?" the girl asked herself.

---

Veld left the girl to her own devices as he trudged down the path away from the house. Two of the soldiers were already heading up to the house, presumably to confirm the safety of the people inside. They slowed their pace when they saw the navy-blue uniform of the Turks, whispering to each other.

"Hey, isn't that a Turk?"

"Heh, it looks like."

"What the hell are the Turks doing here? This is our mission, it's our time to shine!"

"Well, I guess the Turks were called too. I mean, do you really think just the three of us can handle this?"

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Veld had noticed their semi-quarrel—it seemed a bit one-sided—and quickly tried to make his way past them to his transport down the road a bit. He reached them in no time and turned to walk around them. "Excuse me--"

One of the soldiers—the more belligerent of the two—slung his rifle around from where it had been hanging off of his shoulder, and pointed it right at the Turk. "Hey man, hold it right there!"

The Turk stopped in his tracks, a bit startled at the fact that someone was pointing a gun at him. He looked at the culprit, and his eyes narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?" He said once again.

"You know what, old man! I saw you just now, you came from the Shinra estate up there!" The grunt jerked his head towards the rather large house in front of him. "You look just a little bit suspicious to me. We were told to keep everyone away from this place, and that includes you. How did you get in here?!"

The Turk's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Was this a joke of some kind? What was the army teaching these kids, anyway? He looked at the belligerent grunt's counterpart, who looked nervously at the ground. His helmet covered most of his face, but the Turk could tell he was frowning. Veld closed his eyes, and said with distaste, "I was the first to arrive at the scene. I am no criminal. Now, I have a job to do, so if you'll _excuse _me--"

"Look, bud, I have the authority to gun down anyone within fifty yards of the entrance. So you'd better tell me what the hell you were doing in there--"

"What the hell are you doing, private?!"

Both of the infantrymen jumped at the sound of their captain's gruff voice. The more timid of the two turned and snapped off a salute, with the other hesitating before following suit. "Sir! We were securing the perimeter, and we found this--"

The captain cut him off. "Do you have any idea who this is?! This is the leader of the Turks! Not only is this severe insubordination on your part, but he could very easily kill you. Both of you, get the hell out of here and check the rest of the perimeter!."

The timid grunt gave a respectful nod, then grasped his rifle and headed back down the path, while the other gaped at his superior. He ran after his comrade shortly after. The captain watched the two go, making sure they did exactly as he ordered. When he was satisfied, he turned to the head of the Turks.

"I'm very sorry about that sir. They're still rookies, so you can't really blame them. They'll grow up, I'll make sure of it."

The Turk grimaced; he didn't like the way the captain was using their experience as an excuse. This was an important mission, dammit! Why the hell were rookies sent in for a mission like this? He decided to call for backup as he left.

The captain turned toward the street, where the cadets were splitting up, heading opposite ways around the house, scouting for any activity. "We can handle it from here, don't you worry. Carry on sir, you must be busy." He saluted the Turk, then headed past him, up the path to the house. Veld gritted his teeth, then resumed his stride. He pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and dialed a number, still heading towards the transport for him located down the street. "Hello, this is Veld. I think we'll be needing more troops here at the estate. The security here is… insufficient." There was a confirmation on the other side of the conversation, and he snapped the phone shut, shoving it back into his pocket. He reached the car down the road to the right, got in, and sped away with it.

---

The door slid open to the Turk's lounge on the 67th floor, admitting three people. Two were boys, about fourteen years of age, with jet-black hair that reached their shoulders. One wore glasses, and held a sheathed katana in his right hand. The other wore his hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and held a handgun. As opposed to glasses, he had a small dot in the middle of his forehead, something like a bindi. In front of them, a girl of about ten years of age with reddish-brown hair held a large shuriken in her small hands. All three of them were ruffled-looking and tired, as they had just returned from the training room on the same floor.

"Ah, thank the Goddess for air-conditioning!" Cried the girl as she raised her arms above her head, stretching, as well as narrowly avoiding the katana-boy's head with her shuriken.

"Hey, watch where you stick that thing! You almost cut my head off..."

"Aw, I knew your head was there, and that's why I didn't hit it!" Cried the girl, once again. "Don't worry, I won't kill you unless it's on purpose." She flopped down on the sofa next to the window, setting her shuriken down on the table next to it. The boy with the katana looked at her with exasperation, and sauntered over to the armchair in the corner. The other boy went to the other side of the sofa and sat down, his head propped up on one hand with his eyes fluttering, fighting to keep themselves open and alert.

It seemed an argument was blossoming in the katana-boy's head. "Look, I don't trust you with that thing. I mean, you're a friggin' eight-year-old girl! You don't have the _experience_ to control it!"

"Okay, one, you're wrong. I'm ten years old. And two, it doesn't matter how old I am, I'm still the same _rank_ as you, _cadet,_" the girl retorted. She folded her arms and rested her leg on the other, leaning backward.

The boy wasn't satisfied. "I'm still two weeks ahead of you..." he muttered.

The girl scoffed, but didn't say anything. The argument didn't last long, but it was bound to come up again. All three of them struggled to keep their eyes open, and were failing miserably. It wasn't fair that Regular Turks got paid for their hours. The cadets were paid by the company, but it all went towards food and housing, which wasn't cheap. So they had virtually no extra spending money. They lived in the main building, all on one floor, where space was limited. It seemed there was only room for about five Turk cadets to have their own apartments. along with the training room and the lounge, and the head Turk's office.

The girl sighed, and stretched her arms above her head once again, wincing slightly. She had pulled a muscle in her shoulder, and it was still irritated. She looked at her fellow cadet, the one sitting next to her on the opposite side of the sofa. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was still alert. It seemed he never let his guard down.

It didn't stop her from trying, though. The sofa was large, but short enough for her to reach over with her arm, and attempt to poke the dot in the middle of the boy's forehead.

There was no hesitation. "Don't even think about it," the boy said calmly. The girl pulled her arm back, disappointed.

"You still haven't told me what it is," she pouted. "It's just begging to be poked, too!"

The boy cracked an eye open. "Where's your self-respect? Can't you control yourself for even a little while?"

The girl smiled. "Of course I can. I just choose not to. It's a lot more fun that way, I've found." She crossed her arms again. "Geez, you're so vain..."

The boy sighed. "Maybe..."

They were silent. The boy was never really good for conversation, anyway. the girl looked away, staring ahead of her. The boy in the armchair was sleeping, it looked like. They remained like that until the girl got restless again.

"You still haven't told me what it is."

The boy's half-open eyes narrowed, if that was even possible. "Just leave it alone, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me," the girl grinned.

The boy sighed. "It's... sort of like a right of passage. I got it a year ago, when I turned thirteen."

"So you're fourteen?"

The boy looked at her. "Almost. In about a month, in fact."

The girl perked up. "Really? That's cool! See, that wasn't so hard! Now I know what it is, and I can get you a birthday present later!"

"Please don't, you don't have to..."

The girl didn't give up. "Just wait, it'll be perfect." She beamed. The boy just looked at the wall with embarrassment in his eyes.

The girl turned to the boy in the armchair. "Hey, Katana, how old are you?"

"Fifteen..." Apparently he wasn't sleeping at all. This guy never let his guard down, either.

"Really? You look about five to me."

"Hey, if I'm five years old, you're five _days_ old."

The girl jumped up, pointing at him. "Hah, wrong again! If you're gonna insult someone, at least do it accurately." She folded her arms in front of her, as she stood with her chest puffed out, looking as arrogant as a little girl could.

The boy opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Huh...?"

The girl smiled gleefully. "It's simple really. It's just a matter of proportions, that's all." The boy looked at her incredulously. "I'm ten years old, and you're fifteen, right? That means I'm two-thirds of your age. So if you're five, I would have to be at least two-thirds

of five years old, which makes me three and one-third years old. That's a lot more than five days, isn't it?"

The boy looked at her with his mouth hanging open. His eyes narrowed to slits as he shut his mouth, thinking of nothing to use as a comeback.

"Hah, I win again! First in training today, and now--"

"Okay, just shut up already!" The boy grumbled, then closed his eyes again, burrowing into the corner of the chair as far as he could go. Usually he wasn't this ill-tempered, but the lost training match had destroyed most of his patience with both himself and the little girl.

The door opened again, admitting the other two cadets. They both looked about the same age, around sixteen years of age. One was a girl with long, dark brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. A few loose strands of hair that escaped her hair-tie framed her face. She held a collapsed metal rod in her left hand and she stepped into the lounge. "Would you guys be quiet? We can hear you all the way down the hall..."

The other cadet, a boy with short, scraggly, bluish-black hair, looked at the little girl as if to agree with the one standing next to him.

The girl looked at the newcomers with an pleading smile. "Sorry, I was just excited..."

The older girl gave a sigh of exasperation. "Just be quiet. I've got a test tomorrow that could determine my future, so I've got to sleep!" She walked towards the other armchair opposite the first, and flopped down with a soft thud. Her eyes were shut before she sat down.

The older boy walked to the corner of the room, to the left of the cadet wearing glasses, and sat down against the wall with his head on his knees. The little girl with reddish-brown hair looked at him, curious.

"Rough day, huh?"

"You have no idea."

The girl sat back down on the sofa, sighing. "So, who won this time?"

"No one. We tied. Again." The older girl answered wearily. Suddenly, she jerked her head up and clenched her fists. "It's so frustrating! What am I going to do if I can't even beat _you_?_" _She cried, gesturing toward the boy in the corner.

Said boy barely responded. "If it's any consolation, I didn't go easy on you, and I'm just as tired as you are."

The girl put her head back down in her hands, rubbing her eyes. "That's no excuse. I've been here a lot longer than you have, and I'm _specialized._ I don't just pick up anything and learn how to use it in one day!"

"Hey, shut it. You're the one who's being loud, now." The katana-boy said, irritably.

The girl rubbed her temples. "I can be loud if I want, I don't care how hypocritical that sounds. And besides, it's only afternoon. We haven't even been training that long!"

"Four hours is a long time, with you," said the one in the corner.

The girl's head jerked up, once again. "What, _now_ you're complaining?! You were the one urging the others to keep going!"

When the boy didn't answer, she jumped up. "Look, why don't we just settle this, right here, right now? I know you're not that tired. Get up."

"I'm tired."

"No, you're not."

"..."

The girl's face burned red with anger. "Fine, I'll force you up if I have to!" She walked towards him with murder in her eyes.

"H-hey, wait! You're not supposed to fight in here!" Cried the little girl. "You guys will get in trouble!"

"Like I care--" Just before she reached the corner, a blade met her throat. She flinched as the cool metal just barely touched her skin,

"You're tired too. Why don't you go take a break, somewhere where you won't try to kill your own comrades?"

"Katana..." the girl glared at him. The boy in the corner stood up slowly, using the wall to help him. He raised his head, his dark burgundy eyes resting on hers.

"We agreed to finish it tomorrow. You should get some rest now."

The girl gritted her teeth. "I changed my mind." And with that, she smacked the katana away with her now full-length rod, while throwing a punch at the one in front of her.

The oldest boy grunted as he caught the punch, and attempted to throw the girl out into the middle of the room. The girl was faster though, and she caught his knee from behind with her foot, pulling him down to the floor and flipping him over onto his back behind her.

Before long they were both back up, the girl still on the offense, and the boy still on the defense. Katana had backed away, unwilling to get any more involved, with the little girl watching as her fellow cadets brawled, unable to do anything. "You guys! You can't do this! What if you get kicked out of the program, what will you do then?!" She pleaded, but to no avail. She gasped as the boy was thrown into the wall next to the sofa, over the armchair that Katana had been sitting in, narrowly missing the hard table. "Guys! Please! I don't want you to--"

"Veld, Sir!"

Nobody had noticed the door open abruptly, and the boy with the ponytail snap to attention. The little girl and Katana followed suit, leaving the oldest cadets to stare at the doorway, which housed their superior. Only the fear of losing her one and only job forced the older girl off of her victim, allowing him to stand as she snapped to attention.

The room was silent once again, as the head of the Turks scanned the newest members of the force. It was expected of these troublesome youths, actually. He had known them well enough to know how often they fought with one another. Though the thought only disappointed him even more. There were already very few Turks to begin with, and when they lost a particularly good one twelve years before, there was no role model but Veld himself for the younger ones. Both he and Valentine had been the top two Turks, setting an example for the others. But when the latter was lost, everything went downhill from there. Now, as he saw his new cadets quarrel with one another, he wondered if there really was hope for the program anymore.

"At least one of you remembers discipline..."

All ten of the cadets' eyes were glued to their superior's, not daring to move. Was this the last straw? Were they all finished? The maddening fear in their hearts threatened to kill them if the suspense built up any more.

"At ease. If you'll allow me, I have some news to give to you."

The five pairs of eyes widened. Was there something wrong with him? Wasn't he going to fire all of them, right there?

"S-sir?" The little girl's voice rang out.

"You may wish to sit down. It isn't good news."

Oh no, here it comes... That's what all of them thought then. None of them sat though; they wanted to stand tall and proud In their last moments as Turks. Well, cadets, technically.

"I assume you all know of the event that went on today, the parade. The president was to officially announce the SOLDIER program to the public, one that would help to protect the people of the world better than the army has ever done." The little girl nodded slightly, showing that all of them knew of what he spoke. "The parade was successful. The populace now knows of the long-awaited SOLDIER that will protect them. However..." He paused. "There was an interference."

The cadets looked on with confused looks on their faces. Veld went on, ready to give the finishing blow. "There was an assassination. The president's wife was killed,"

The eyes widened again, this time with a small gasp escaping the lips of the youngest cadet. "W-what?"

Just as he had with the young maid, Veld gave his answer with no emotion. 'It seems she was protecting her husband, and was not the actual target."

The silence was deafening. It was else was there to say? The president's wife was dead now, and there was nothing he could do about it. The head Turk looked on, showing nothing of the frustration that was practically pouring out of him.

"W-why?"

Veld looked at the girl, her eyes wide and full of worry. He suddenly thought how young she was, and already having to deal with the disaster of war. At least, that's what he thought it was at the moment.

"That's what we're trying to understand. The few Turks in the area, aided by the army, are scouring the city for anyone suspicious, in hopes of catching the culprit. This is only my speculation, but there is reason to believe that Wutai was behind this."

The boy with the ponytail flinched. Wutai? Would they really do something this drastic, just because of some disagreements? What would happen to their relationship with Shinra, now?

"The president has decided that our security forces are too few in number, and thus, are in need of more members. It is a good time to be cadets, and experienced ones, at that. You all could expect a promotion very soon if my predictions are true."

All ten of the cadets' eyes widened both in surprise, and excitement. The moment was short-lived, however. They were probably thinking, was it really right to be celebrating at a time like this?

"However, we are in need of help right this instant, since most of the Turks are gone on missions, and won't be arriving for hours, or even a few days. Gun!"

The boy with the ponytail jumped back to attention. "Y-yes, sir?"

"As of this moment, you are a full-fledged Turk. Your first mission is to aid us with the investigation, and attempt to apprehend the suspect. I'll brief you on the way. Are you ready?"

The boy stared for a good few seconds before responding. "Y-yes, sir! I just need my gun..." He turned, looking around frantically for his holster, with the others staring at him with both shock, and extreme envy.

The boy passed right by his holster a few times in his nervousness, and would have kept doing so if the little redheaded girl hadn't tapped his shoulder.

"Here you go, sir," she said, holding it out for him.

The boy looked at her with slight awe. She had just called him "sir." Why had she done that? Wait, he was a Turk now, a higher rank than her. It only made sense... ah, gun! He needed his gun! He thanked the girl, grabbed his gun from where he had left it on the sofa, and strapped it around his waist. He looked up at his superior with nervous, yet determined, eyes. "I'm ready, sir."

"Good. Then let's move," he said, turning on his heel toward the door. He pressed the button next to the door, causing it to slide open. The new Turk behind him followed, stopping at the door. Veld hesitated before he walked through the doorway. "Oh, and one more thing for all of you." He looked over his shoulder, but failed to meet any of the cadets' eyes. "It would be in your best interests to remember your discipline, just in case the president no longer sees this program as an asset, and rather as a liability." He turned back around, and walked out the door, the nervous rookie Turk in tow.

The remaining cadets stared as the door slid back with its metallic hissing sound. It was all so much to process--the president's wife being killed, Gun's promotion, the threat of the Turks being eradicated... none of them knew how to respond. Eventually, the little girl stepped away, heading back to the sofa. The others took their places, save for the oldest boy, who took Gun's place on the sofa.

"Wow..." said the girl.

"I don't understand... we've been trying so hard to keep peace with Wutai. Why would they attack us?" Said the oldest girl.

"Perhaps they finally got tired of Shinra trying to meddle in their affairs," answered the younger boy, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them.

They were silent once more. Why couldn't Wutai just accept that the rest of the world was evolving, and they were behind? That they were at a disadvantage without mako energy? Shinra was only trying to help them--why were they righting so hard against them?

The oldest girl growled. "The whole thing is stupid. We're trying to help, dammit! Why don't they just accept us already?! Now they're causing even more hate and suffering because of their stubbornness!" She slammed her fist down on her leg, causing her to wince. She was still sore and tired from training that day.

There was nothing else to say. The president's wife was dead, killed out in the middle of the city, in broad daylight, while they were screwing around in the training room. The older girl leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and hanging her head. "If only we weren't fucking cadets. Stupid, weak, lazy cadets..."

The youngest was silent, for the first time it seemed. Her eyes did nothing to contain the sorrow, sympathy, pain, and anger they held. The others had never really seen her angry before. Her bottom lip quivered, her lips separated by a sliver of space. The oldest boy looked at her, almost as if asking her what to do next.

Suddenly, the little girl jumped up, breathing hard, and darted over to the side of the sofa. She grabbed her shuriken, and headed for the door.

The other looked at her. "Where do you think you're going?" asked the older girl, almost apathetically.

The young girl spun around, a determined glare in her eyes. "To train. I don't want to stay a stupid, lazy, incompetent cadet forever, you know." She stood there as the others watched her. She looked at the floor, uncomfortably. "Besides..." She looked back up at them. "I'm not gonna let Gun pass me up for long! I'll be a real Turk in no time!" She spun back around, punched the button, and ran out the door and down the hall.

The others watched as the door closed with that familiar hissing sound, both awe and confusion plastered on their faces. She did have a point. They were behind now, and not only that, but they could all be fired if they didn't prove their worth. The older girl stood, brushing off her shirt, and holding her rod with a death-grip that turned her knuckles white. The boys did the same, Katana strapping his weapon to his belt. The girl smirked, and swung her rod up to rest on her shoulder.

"Well, I know I'm not gonna let _her_ pass me up. No way." She waltzed over to the door, pressed the button, and left, the others following close behind her.

---

This got WAAAAY too long, 21+pages to be exact. So I split it into two chapters... I REALLY didn't want to do that, it feels like it's split in two. So just read them one after the other, mmkay?

Oh yeah... those other two Turk cadets that came in later... I guess they're OC's. I hate doing that, but I needed some new Turks! All the others don't join until later! I dunno if they'll show up again. I don't like OC's, so I may have to kill them... And I'm extremely unoriginal when it comes to OC's, so one is based off of me, and the other is based off of my character that I put in every game/anime/movie I ever fantasize about, but never, ever develop =D I've been using him for my wonderful fantasies for years now, and I haven't even given him a decent name T_T So I dunno if he'll have a name in here. And I hate colorful hair (pink, purple, green, blue, etc) unless it's dyed. But I've noticed that people's hair can actually be so dark that it reflects blue o_O So that's what I was going for in his hair color.

This is too long now! Thank you SOOO much for reading, and please review! Anything will do, but I prefer comments, questions, hates, loves, etc. I mean, I love to hear that I'm amazing and you love me, but it's a lot cooler when you say something you HATE about my story. So don't be shy =D I don't care how small or stupid it may seem, if you want to say something about it, then DO IT! I command you!!! RAAAAWWWRR!


	3. Change

Change

He had to fight to keep up with his superior as they rushed down the hall to the elevator, all the while making no conversation. The young Turk followed his commander into the elevator, standing beside him at the back. His hands shook as he grasped them together, fighting to keep his anxiety under control. This was his first mission. He was finally a Turk, a _real_ Turk. It was almost too hard to believe. It was crazy. Why would Veld pick _him_ to be the new rookie, instead of his more skilled and experienced counterparts? He had arrived only a month before Katana, a full year after the older two cadets. It didn't make sense... He shivered thinking about what would happen if he messed up. What would the others think of him? What would Veld think of him? What if the president got fed up with his incompetence, and extirpated the entire Turk program? It would all be his fault. He felt a pang of regret--regret that Veld would choose someone like him to represent the Turks. Someone from Wutai.

That's what he didn't understand. Usually when there's conflict between two countries, foreigners from either country are treated horribly. They're hated, spat upon, cursed... but why, why would Veld choose him? He had said so himself that Wutai could have been behind the attack. So why would he promote a Wutaian to the Turk ranks? It didn't make any sense. Not only that, but why would Wutai attack? Didn't they know god and well that they'd be utterly and completely decimated if they went up against Shinra? While all of these thoughts bounced around in his head, he failed to notice his commander trying to get his attention.

"Rookie!"

He jumped, cursing himself. He'd already messed up before they even went anywhere He forced out an answer. "Y-yes, sir?"

Veld glared at him. "Pull yourself together, before I regret promoting you."

_You don't already?!_ The young Turk thought to himself.

Veld paused before going on. "I was about to brief you on the mission. It would be best that you listen carefully and follow directions to the tee, to prevent any problems." The boy mentally slapped himself for his nervousness and lack of attentiveness. "We have currently three Turks on the job, with the help of the army. That's clearly not enough to cover all of the sectors. You will head to Sectors 4 and 5, and report anything that looks suspicious. If you encounter anyone particularly uncooperative, arrest them and hand them over to the nearest infantryman. Be cautious; try not to hint that you're from Shinra. They'll have a problem cooperating after hearing that. Try to get as much information as possible before they learn that you're a Turk."

The boy looked down at his clothes. Would he be getting a uniform? No, there probably wasn't any time for that. He'd have to go wearing the clothes he had on. But who would take him seriously, him being a thirteen-year-old boy wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, the former having a small spot of blood near the collar, from when he got punched by Katana that day during training?

"You will receive a uniform later, but for now, you'll go as you are." _I knew it..._ the boy thought. "Your clothes might even serve as a sort of camouflage. Now, you just look like a concerned boy, looking around for someone. I'm sure the people in the slums would be glad to help a child in need."

He thought about that. Would they really help him, even though they'd never seen him before? Wouldn't he be suspicious? Well, even if he were in a uniform, he'd look even _more_ suspicious. So there was nothing to lose. Except maybe his life...

"This is what you'll use to report in." Veld held out a black flip-phone to the boy, who stared at it. "Shinra only provides one; the rest come out of your paycheck. So don't lose it." The boy took it gratefully, flipping it open. "If you'll take a look at the screen, you should have a new message. It's from me, giving you the mission details. You can check them if you forget." The boy seriously hoped that didn't happen. He viewed the message, but closed it after seeing it was exactly what Veld was telling him presently. He found where to read his messages, and how to send them, and closed the phone, dropping it safely into his pocket.

The elevator reached the bottom, the doors sliding open with a metallic clanking sound. The two Turks exited, heading for the main exit that would let them out of the building, into the city. The younger one followed his leader out the doors and into the darkness of the afternoon. He looked up at the sky, seeing nothing but a huge, black cloud. Virtually no light broke through it to illuminate the busiest city in the world.

"You should head to Sector 4, then to Sector 5, then report in if you find nothing. I'll tell you exactly what to do after that. Do you know how to get there"

The boy's eyes widened as he realized he had no way of knowing that. He spent most of his time around the Shinra building, considering his profession. He shook his head, disappointed in himself.

"No matter. Just head South, in the other direction. It's the bottom two sectors, with Sector 4 being East of Sector 5. Understand?"

The boy thought for a bit. He drew a picture in his head, visualizing what he'd just been told. It made sense. "Yes, sir."

Veld nodded. "Good. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you. Please use your best judgment and complete your mission with as much efficiency and caution as you can. If you encounter any other Turks, you are allowed to share information with them. However if you are unsure as whether to trust them of not, don't. Have you met any other Turks?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, I advise you to keep to yourself, unless they give you definite proof of who they are. Use your best judgment. And now, I must leave you here. I assume your mission is clear to you now?"

The boy thought before answering. Was he really up to this? He'd never been in any serious battles--what made Veld so sure that he could take it? He was nervous, and inexperienced. Why the hell would Veld trust him with something so important?

Then he thought, that's just it. He didn't need to know _why_ Veld would trust him with anything, just that trusted him. Veld was Veld, and if he trusted you, everyone did. Apparently there was something that Veld liked about him, enough to give him this mission. The thought practically washed away most of the boy's anxiety, leaving him for the most part, confident.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then I'll leave you. Oh, and one more thing. What is your real name?"

"S-sir?" The boy asked, confused. He wasn't supposed to give his name out to _anyone_ in case they found out his profession. That was standard for all cadets.

"Your real name, what is it?"

They boy hesitated. He could trust the head Turk, right? "... It's Tseng, sir."

"Right then, Tseng. You can either go on using your alias, or you can go by your real name from now on. I trust you'll take responsibility for anything that may happen as a result of your choice, like any good Turk."

The boy thought for a moment. Could he really...? To be honest, he hated his alias. It was just so... generic. And what if he learned to use other weapons than just a plain Gun? He figured he could handle a few people knowing his name. "I'll use my real name, sir."

"Good. Then you'll be known as Tseng from now on. Be careful, though. Don't bruit it that you're a Turk. Now, good luck, rookie." He turned, heading back into the huge seventy-story building.

Tseng looked at his commander as he walked away, leaving him alone in the huge, bustling city. This was it. He was finally a Turk, on a real mission. He was going out to catch a murderer, to protect the people of Midgar, to do what he'd always dreamed of.

He was ready. He set out into the city, ready for anything that might come at him.

---

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

He stood in front of the huge metallic desk in front of him as the president sat behind it, his head in his hands.

"I did..." The man said without moving. He was breathing slow, deep breaths, as if to keep them under control. "How is the investigation?"

"The army and the Turks have been dispatched to search the city, a you ordered."

"And the find?"

"There is none, at the moment,sir. It's only been about an hour, at the most--"

The president jerked his head up to glare at the Turk. "I don't care _what_ you have to do, I want them found! Why is it taking so long?! You're Turks, right?!"

Veld stood stiff, taking whatever abuse the man might throw at him with no response. "There are only four Turks in the area, sir. The rest are coming from Junon, which may take a couple hours. We're doing all we can." He didn't add that _he_ should be out helping as well.

The president regained what little composure he previously had, and put his head back in his hands. "You said you had speculations as to who could have done this."

Veld shifted uneasily. That's just what they were, _speculations._ They may as well be guesses, for all the information they had. "I believe the most likely suspect would be Wutai, sir. There's been tension between them and Shinra for years; it makes sense that they would turn hostile after ll this time."

The president scoffed. "I knew it..."

The Turk didn't want it to stop there. There was to much at stake for the president to make a decision right now, "There are other possibilities, though. Wutai wasn't the only country we had trouble with. There might be a group out there who wants to destroy Shinra even more than they do."

"Like who?"

"... I'm merely stating that there are other possibilities. You shouldn't make a decision based solely on speculation, sir." He mentally kicked himself for advising the president. That wasn't his job; he was just a Turk, just another part of the tall and treacherous Shinra hierarchy.

"I trust that you make more than guesses, Veld. I'll take that into consideration. What about SOLDIER?"

"You mean the new SOLDIER, correct?"

"Yes, the program announced today. Should I deploy them as well?"

Veld thought for a moment. He really didn't like SOLDIER, to be honest. He hadn't had the chance to see them in action, to judge them accordingly. "I think you should use Shinra's resources as efficiently as possible, sir, and that means SOLDIER as well. It would be best, in my opinion, if they were placed outside the city, to keep anyone from escaping until we find the culprit."

The president raised his head. "You think so?"

Veld nodded. "It would raise the chances of our mission succeeding, sir."

The president thought for a moment. His face contorted as he thought, struggling to make a decent and intelligent decision in his current state. "Right, then." He pressed a button on the phone on his desk, probably an intercom of some kind. "Heidegger, deploy all available SOLDIER to the outside of the city at once. I don't want anyone escaping." There was an affirmative, and the room was silent once more. Veld stood stiff, as usual, while the president massaged his temples.

"What of my son?"

"He is at home, with security patrolling the house."

"What about the maid? Is she there?"

"Yes. She is caring for him at the moment."

The president was silent, thinking once more. Veld could do nothing unless he was ordered to, not even move. Suddenly, there was a vibration in his pocket. Someone was reporting in. He pulled his phone out and flipped it open. It was a call. He accepted it. "Have you found anything?"

It was Tseng. The boy sounded winded, as if he'd been running. "I don't know, sir. I searched everywhere in Sector 4, but there was no one who seemed to know what was going on. It was pretty much the same in Sector 5. Nobody's been particularly helpful..."

"You've searched everywhere?"

"Yes, sir. Every house, shop, alley, everywhere."

Veld frowned. He had expected this. "Make your way down to the slums. The others might already be down there. Nothing was found on the plate, but they may have run down into the slums to hide until they can escape. It will be difficult, but look everywhere down there."

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

Veld closed the phone, pocketing it once more. He should really be leaving, and leading the investigation. He should be out doing _field_ work, not standing around behind the scenes!

"Still nothing?"

"No sir. My subordinates are heading down into the slums. I suggest you order the army to do so as well."

"Right..." The president pressed the button again. "Heidegger. Send the troops that are searching the city down into the slums, but leave a few to guard the Plate." There was an affirmative on the other side. The president folded his hands in front of him, looking at them.

"You said my son is safe, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"... I want you to bring him here."

Veld was confused. "Sir?"

The president glared at him. "You heard what I said. I want you to bring him here. Tell the troops there to return to Midgar and report to Heidegger, on my orders. If they give you any trouble, just kill them."

Veld was shocked. The president didn't usually give such demanding orders. And his son was safe where he was... "Sir, I think it would be best if your son stayed out of Midgar. If he were to be discovered--"

"I don't give a damn what you think, Veld! I want my son here, where I know he's safe! I don't need to hear what _you_ think is best for him."

_Then why were you asking for my opinion?!_ the Turk thought. He thought for a moment, "Sir... perhaps the infantrymen could bring him when--"

"No, I want you to bring him. I don't trust those incompetent fools," he the president said with distaste. "I want the utmost certainty of my son's safety. I'm placing him in your hands, and I expect him to be you _top priority._ Do I make myself clear?"

Veld was silent, hesitant. He wanted to refuse, to run out and help his comrades, to yell out in the president's face that he was being a fool, that if he could just go out and help with the investigation his son would be safe anyway! He wanted to hurt the man before him, to punch some sense into him, to tell him to go home to his son and leave the investigation to the Turks. He wanted all of these things; and yet, he would get none of them. He wouldn't allow it. He had his pride, the pride of a Turk to look after. Not to mention he would be fired; and when a Turk was fired, they didn't get a pink slip or a notice. They got a bullet in their skull, or worse. Though at this point, being fired didn't seem so bad.

"Yes, sir. I'll go retrieve your son, and bring him here."

"Bring the maid, too. I need her as well. Bring them here, to my office."

"Yes, sir."

The president nodded. "Good... then you're dismissed."

"_Thank_ you, Mr. President." The Turk did nothing to hide his distaste as he turned and walked out of the room. He didn't care what the president thought of him at the moment. He had a job to do. Like the president said, he would do _anything_ to find the one who murdered the president's wife. Because that's what Turks did. They got the job done, no matter what.

But there were some times when Veld just hated the president. But there was no time for hate. Turks didn't have emotions, or opinions. They only had their job. And now, Veld's job was to retrieve Rufus Shinra from his home, so he could get on with the investigation to find the one who murdered his mother. _Thank you, Mr. President indeed._

---

Tseng hung up just as he saw a shadow dart past him into an alleyway. His eyebrows furrowed, and he walked slowly towards the alley. He made no attempt to pursue the shadow, for he had already checked it before, and found it was a dead end. He crouched slightly, hugging the wall in case the shadow decided to come back out and play.

_Well, this is going to be fun. I get to chase shadows all day, right?_ Tseng was not amused. He'd been doing this for a grand total of twenty-eight minutes; chasing shadows, that is. There was nothing else to chase. The crowded and busy city of Midgar had been knocked out of existence and replaced with one full of dark alleys and rats. There were hardly any people around anymore. What had they done, gone home? He checked the houses, too, but nobody knew what he meant by "anything suspicious." So he was getting nowhere up here. But he had to check _everything_, including alleys that he had checked once before, but now look suspicious again.

He looked around the corner into pure darkness. If something ran in there, he couldn't see it now. He stood up, revealing himself to whatever had run into the alley. It was a stupid move, but he was desperate. And he paid for it, too. A cold liquid squirted into his face, stinging his eyes and filling his mouth. He jumped back, coughing and spitting, expecting something lethal.

"Hah-HAH, I got you!" A boy with a toy squirt gun jumped out of the darkness, giddy with joy.

Tseng wiped his eyes, struggling to see his assailant. He glared at what he saw. "What are you doing here?" He politely asked. Hell, talking to a kid was better than to shadow, right? Maybe he'd get somewhere.

"I was stalking you! You were a perfect target." The little boy gave a wide, toothy grin.

Tseng stared at the boy incredulously. He was being _stalked?_ By a _kid?! _Impossible! He was a Turk, for Gaia's sake!

"And that dot on your head made it _really_ easy. You should get rid of that, mister. Someone'll blow a hole right through it one day," the boy said, with wide, concerned eyes.

Tseng flinched. _Keep calm, he doen't know... he doesn't know better... don't kill him for something stupid like that, you have you pride.. just ask him if he's seen anything! _Tseng smiled. "Maybe I will, thanks. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have seen anything weird around here, have you?"

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Well, _duh_, all the people are gone! Where the heck did everyone go?!" He looked around, confused.

Tseng's eyebrow twitched. He was still getting nowhere. This kid was a waste of time. Time to go--

"But there was this one guy, running around. He was acting all weird, talking on his phone, running in circles, yelling at people... He ran off into the slums though."

Tseng stopped. "What did he look like?!"

The kid grinned. "Heeey, you think I'll give you that for free? You gotta pay up if you want something."

Tseng wanted to punch this kid. Why were they all such a pain?! "I... don't have anything on me--"

"You serious?! Don't you work for Shinra?"

He flinched again. How the hell did this kid find that out? "Who... are you?"

The kid frowned. "Doesn't matter, I asked you first!"

Tseng frowned with him. "... Yes, I'm a Turk."

The kid scoffed. "You sure don't look like one." Tseng glared at him "B-but! I'll take more than just money. You got any materia?"

Tsenghesitated, then reached into his pocket, grasping the one materia he had. A mastered Cure. The kid saw his pained look. "You got one, right? What is it?"

"Cure."

"Great!" The boy fist-pumped the air. 'I'll take it!"

Tseng glared at the boy. "It's mastered. It's worth more than a few words of information."

The boy perked up even more. "R-really?! That's even better! Hey, if it's not worth it to you, then..." He started to walk away.

Tseng's eyes widened."H-hey, wait! I'll give it to you!"

The boy stopped, and turned around. "Then give it here. Before I say a word, I want to use it."

Tseng frowned. "Alright, but if you try anything--"

"I won't! I promise!" He held out his hands and Tseng dropped the small orb into them. He grinned, then crouched down to pull up his pant leg. There was a long gash that ran from his knee to the middle of his shin, and it was bleeding. "Aww darn, I got blood on my pants again," said the boy. He squinted, and the orb lit up for a second, green light engulfing his wound, the fading. When it was gone, so was the wound.

"Wow, it really works!" Cried the boy. "Alright, the guy had red hair and glasses."

Tseng stared at him."Is that all...?"

The boy shook his head. "He was wearing a silver cross and a red and white striped shirt. And his boots were awesome..."

Tseng furrowed his eyebrows. "Anything else?"

"Nope, just a regular guy considering. Why, are you looking for him?"

"Yeah."

The kid smiled. "Great!I hope you find him. He was a bit creepy... I gotta go, bye!" He ran down the street and around a corner, out of sight.

Tseng watched as he ran, thinking to himself. _I just hope he was telling the truth... _He Turned and ran the other way, to find a way down into the slums.

---

The president sat with his head in his hands. It seemed he'd been doing that for days, when really it had been just been a couple of hours. Right now, time didn't matter. His wife was gone. He had nothing left... except Rufus.

He clenched his fists against his head, pulling his hair. That boy was all he had left. Half of his family was gone, half of his heart torn out from him and thrown away. His love, his love for anything it seemed, was dead, along with his wife. All he had left was Rufus... he unclenched his fists. Well, there was that _other_ boy, but he was nothing. Just a mistake, a product of his former self's uncontrolled irresponsibility. There would be no more mistakes, he would make sure of it. He would make every plan fool-proof, so that even an idiot could understand it. He would keep his son locked up with the highest security possible, so he would be safe, and then he'd find whoever killed his wife, then he'd send his beloved SOLDIER to go destroy Wutai... perfect. There wasn't a more perfect plan anywhere.

He almost didn't hear his secretary over the intercom. He pressed a button. "Yes? What is it?" He asked, with impatience.

"Mr. President, you cave a call from the Science Department."

"Put them through."

There was a small pause, then a young man's voice was heard. "Mr. President, I am one of the scientists responsible for your wife's autopsy. We found something... interesting."

The president's eyes widened. Could this be it? Would he finally know who had so brutally stolen his love from him? "What is it?"

"Sir, I just thought you'd like to know that... you wife was pregnant."

The president's half of a heart sank. Nothing important, then. "How long?"

"Two months."

The president winced. He could have had a daughter, or another son. Wait... what if they saved it?! "Is it...?"

"I'm sorry sir, we were unable to save it. We couldn't tell its gender, either. I'm very sorry, Mr. President."

The man clenched his fists. Yet another part of him taken. His future child, dead before it was even alive. Whoever did this would pay, dearly, with the lives of their children, parents, grandparents, grandchildren, and everyone close to them. He didn't notice when the intercom turned off, or when he broke his pen in half, nearly spraying his dark red suit with ink. He grumbled, and threw a stack of papers onto the mess. No matter what was on those papers, they meant nothing to him now. All he could do was wait for Veld to get back. He couldn't think of anything to do until then.

But what would he say to his son? Would he just tell him his mother was killed, and she was never coming back, and then send him to his room? That seemed a little _too_ cruel, no matter how the president felt at the moment. He may be heartbroken and full of despair, and lost, and confused, but he would keep his head on straight and figure out what to do like a good president.

But he was angry.

He was infuriated, enraged, maddeningly furious, almost to the point of insanity. He wanted to find whoever had committed this heinous crime, and destroy them. He wanted to put a bullet in their head; ten,_ twenty_ bullets would be better. He wanted to skin them alive, and hang their mangled body from the roof by their ears. He wanted to rip them limb from limb, then finish off the interrupted parade with their head on a pole in the middle of the city. Then he wanted to burn up what was left of their body and scatter the ashes over raw and bloody meat, to be thrown into the ocean and eaten by sharks. All these thoughts he thought with no regret; that's just what they were, thoughts. He couldn't do anything, yet. Not until the culprit was found.

He wanted all of these things. But most of all, he wanted his love back. He wanted to see her warm, smiling face, to hear her melodious voice laugh and say his name. He wanted to run his fingers through her dark, silky brown hair, and feel her fair skin that seemed to glow. He wanted to lose himself deep into her piercing blue eyes, her tiny mirrors that reflected the good in anyone who looked in them. He wanted them so badly--

Brrrrrriiiiiing. Brrrrrriiiiiinnnnnng.

The president took a break from his mental escapades and answered the phone. "Yes?"

There was a husky, gruff voice on the other side of the conversation. "Just reporting in, sir. SOLDIER has been stationed outside the city, and no interesting reports have come in. If they're still in the city, they're not getting out."

The man's brow furrowed as he thought. He supposed that was a good thing. He trusted that no one would get past the amazing superhumans created by Shinra's science department. The head of Public Safety Maintenance finished his report and went back to his job. _Well, that was uneventful. If something doesn't happen soon, I'm gonna go on a killing spree._

But then he thought, what if they had already escaped? What if he had deployed SOLDIER too late, and the murderer and its cohorts was long gone by now? His hand flinched, and he curled his fists into tight balls. He breathed harder, resisting the urge to scream. If only he hadn't been so _stupid_, he could have sent out every available force Shinra had, and caught the bastards. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"Shit... shit shit shit SHIIIT!!!" He yelled, slamming his fists down on the desk. He wanted to cry, but no tears came out. He just sat there with his shoulders jerking up and down, sobbing with no sound escaping his lips. He had cried to much already. He just couldn't do it anymore.

There was a buzzing sound coming from the door. He jerked his head up, trying his best to plaster an indifferent look over his vulnerable state. He stood, standing to the left of his chair, and brushed his suit down, and fixed his tie. The same tie that she had tied for him that morning... He winced. +"Come in." He said it with little emotion, just a slight quiver in his voice.

The door opened, and three people walked in. One was a man, with small wrinkles forming on his face, wearing a dark, navy-blue suit. The next was a woman, more like a girl, with dark heir and almond-shaped eyes. The last was a boy, with short blond hair and wearing a bleached white suit, holding the young woman's hand. He was crying; tears streaked his round, pale face and wet the collar of his suit.

The president stared at them for a while before saying anything. "Veld, were there any problems on the way?"

The other man shook his head. "None, sir."

The president looked at the floor. "What about the investigation?"

The Turk frowned slightly, though it was hard to tell if he was frowning, or just wore a straight face. "Nothing as of now sir--"

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He whipped it out as the president looked on, impatiently. The girl and the little boy looked also, curious as to what was so urgent at the moment. The man answered. "What is it?"

There was heavy breathing and rapid footsteps on the other side. "I think I've found someone, sir. But I... I'm losing him--"

"Where are you?"

"Sector 5 slums, headed... towards Sector 4."

"What does the person look like?"

There was a pause, which was filled with a sharp snapping noise and a curse. "Male, red hair, and glasses..." He paused, gasping for breath. "A striped shirt, and a cross around his neck. Oh damn--"

Veld hesitated. "I'll alert the others. What just happened?"

There was a pause. "A dead end... I lost him."

Veld frowned even deeper. "Keep looking. With any luck the army will catch on and help you. Report anything else that goes on over there."

"Yes, sir."

Veld hung up. He hadn't expected the rookie to actually _find_ anyone... He had just wanted to give him some field experience. He was doing good so far, even if this wasn't the culprit.

"What happened?"

Veld looked up at the president's anxious face. "One of my subordinates has found a suspicious fellow running about in the slums." He started pressing buttons on his phone. "I'm sending out a mass message to the other Turks, telling them to look for him."

"Where?"

"He was being chased through Sector 5, towards Sector 4."

"I see..." He pressed the intercom button once again. "Heidegger, order the military to help the Turks fin a man in the Sector 5 slums. He could also be in the adjacent sectors, so check all of them, just to make sure." Once again, there was a gruff affirmative on the other end. The president still stood by his chair, rubbing his right temple.

"Rufus..."

The boy bit his lip. "Daddy?" Most of his tears had stopped, after seeing everyone in the room so calm and collected.

The president looked over at his son; his eyes twitched, refusing to reveal the sorrow they held within them. "Come here."

The boy's eyes widened, and he quickly released the hard grip he had on the young woman's dress. He ran towards his father, his face screwing up once again. "Daddy--"

"Stop there!"

The boy stopped when he got to the desk, just before he had the chance to turn and tackle his father. His concerned face looked up, confused as to why his own father would keep him from comfort.

"Daddy--"

"Don''t say anything. Just stand there, by the desk."

The father's orders weren't doing anything for him, it seemed. The boy's bottom lip quivered as his eyes swelled with tears. "Daddy, nobody's telling me, where's mommy? What happen--"

"I said, shut up!"

The boy jumped in shock. He looked at his father's face, one that looked close to vengeful. His father was angry. He never got angry, ever. What was wrong? Where was his mother? The lack of information killed him as he tried not to wail. "Where's mom? Daddy, where did mommy go?"

"She's dead!"

The boy's eyes grew wider, if that were even possible. His father never lied, at least not seriously. He would lie to mother, and other people, but then he would laugh, and everyone with him; they knew he was lying. But now, he seemed as serious as could be. He wasn't lying, Rufus knew that. Then why... Why was he saying such hurtful things? Why was he telling the same lie that Rufus had told himself in his dream, but it was the truth this time?

Why did the truth hurt so much?

He had tried to hold it in, but it burst out as if a pressure valve had exploded inside him. His eyes spilled over once again, and he sobbed loudly. He didn't want to make his father mad, but he just couldn't hold it anymore.

"Stop it.. stop crying this instant!"

It did nothing. It may as well have stimulated more cries. He was just a child--a mournful, confused, terrified, and neglected one at that. What more could he do than cry out his sorrow?

"I said stop it! I don't want to hear it!"

What good did that man think would come from that? When would he learn that ordering people to do things just made them want to do the opposite?

"Dammit, stop, _now!"_

Rufus let out a sharp yelp as he fell onto his side, onto the hard, cold floor. He cried harder, holding his stinging cheek.

The young woman gasped. "M-Mr. President! How could you--"

"You keep out of this, unless you want some too!" Yelled the man, his hand stinging. "Get up! Get up and stop crying! Do you want worse than that?!"

Nobody had noticed the Turk wince when the hardened flesh of the president's hand met his frail son's cheek. He quickly erased all traces of emotion as the hurt child struggled to stand, still holding his cheek.

"Put your arm down, I didn't hit you that hard. Next time, I'll use my fist, you hear me?"

The boy let his arm fall, wincing as tears continued to streak his face. He looked at the floor, unable to meet his father's menacing gaze.

"Look up at me. Look at me!"

The boy slowly raised his head, terrified of what he would see. Quiet gasps escaped him as he stared at his father in disbelief and confusion.

"Now wipe that pathetic look off you face. You're a Shinra, goddammit! What would people think if they saw you right now? They'd call you weak. They'd push you around and take advantage of you. You musn't let them do that, _ever_, you hear me?!"

The boy looked up at his father, refusing to believe a word he was hearing. Did he just say that it was bad to cry? Was he saying that bad things would happen if he cried? Then he thought of something. The reason his father had for being so different... was it because he had cried in front of all those people? Did he change, forever? And now, since Rufus had cried so much, would he change, forever?

He struggled to regain control of himself. If he stopped crying, then daddy would stop being so scary, right? That's what he hoped. So he put all of his might into controlling his breathing, and ceasing the sobs that racked his small frame. He might be able to do that, but he couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard he tried. He could at least _look_ like he wasn't crying, right? Since his face was already wet, what would a few more tears do? He met his father's gaze with pained, yet determined eyes.

The president was quieter now. Had the boy's hypothesis been true? "Now you look at me, and listen. I don't ever want to see that face again. I don't ever want to see you crying again. Those eyes, they're hers... I don't want her eyes to cry, ever again."

The boy was confused. What did he mean, "her eyes?"

The president looked over to the two by the door. "Veld!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Take my son to his room. There's one on the 69th floor that he will use from now on." The maid was confused at this statement. "Come back here when you've locked him in there."

"Yes sir." He looked at the boy waiting patiently for him to follow. The boy stared at his father for a few moments before backing away slowly, then turning away to follow the blue-clad Turk. The door slid open, and the two left just as they had came, leaving the president and his maid.

The girl looked very uncomfortable after what had just unfolded in front of her. What on Gaia had happened to the kind-hearted, considerate man she had known for years? Where was the president that had taken her in when she had nowhere to go but the gutter, after her mother had abandoned her?

The man before her stood with his back facing her. "Yori. I thank you for all you have done, and I'm sorry I have to do this. You're fired."

The girl's eyes widened in shock. What was going on?

"S-Sir?"

"You heard me. I'm letting you go. Don't worry, Shinra will help you find a job in the city. You will still be able to earn a living."

The girl was suddenly angry, and hurt. She had seen this coming, but didn't want to think about it. "Is it because... I'm Wutaian?"

The president was silent for a moment. "I don't think you would betray me. I know you, you're a good girl. You wouldn't hurt a fly. But you are also easily manipulated. And I can't endanger this company by having you work on the inside. I'm sorry."

The girl glared at the man's back with disbelief. All because of where her parents had come from?! She was born _here_ for Gaia's sake! She hated Shinra all of a sudden. But then, she hated Wutai, also. It took two sides to have conflict, and they were both playing their parts perfectly. All she wanted was to scream. But she didn't. She held it in, all of her frustration, disbelief, and sorrow. Why did the world always have to be so cruel? She turned and left, headed the same way she came in. She would collect her things, then try to find an inn in the slums until she had a job. She was resourceful--she didn't need Shinra.

---

Veld opened the door for the last time that day, before he went back out to work. It was getting late in the afternoon, and he was extremely impatient. He really hoped the president didn't have another stupid assignment for him.

"You wanted to see me again, sir?"

The president was sitting at his desk, filling out some papers with an undiscernable purpose. He looked up at the Turk with empty eyes. "Yes, I did. I have an important assignment for you."

_I really should stop thinking about things I don't want to happen._ Veld thought.

"I want you to watch my son and ensure his safety. In short, I want you to be his bodyguard."

He couldn't believe it. He had been reduced from head Turk to a babysitter in mere hours. He kept his frustration under control, however, and answered as respectfully as was possible at that moment. "Sir, if I may protest, I am head Turk. I cannot spend my time watching over young children and still do my job as efficiently as I have been--"

"Then find someone else to do it."

Veld was shocked. He hid it well, though. The president went on, "I don't want an idiot who can't take care of a living soul though. I want someone who is skilled and intelligent enough for the job. Is that simple enough for you?"

Veld had nothing to say, for once. There was a simple answer to that question, but it just didn't seem to come out easily. Basically, he was relieved. He could just find someone for the job, then go out and do his own. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Fine, then you're dismissed. When you've chosen your candidate, send them here and I'll give them the mission details."

"Yes, Mr. President." He turned, and left. He really didn't care _who_ he picked at the moment, but he couldn't pick one of the senior Turks. He needed them for what they were already doing. And the cadets... they were idiots. And they would never be able to finish their training if they had a young boy to look after. So, he had very easily narrowed down his choice to one person.

---

The vibrating was getting annoying.

How many messages had he gotten already, in the few minutes following that one to Veld? It seemed like all of a sudden, the other Turks wanted to help him, or rather find the culprit and steal all the glory from the one who had found him in the first place, at the cost of his only materia. A mastered one, too. He was still sore about that... He sighed, pulling out his phone. He had just gotten it a couple of hours ago, and he already hated it.

When he read the message, he stopped walking. A man who had been walking behind him bumped into his shoulder, cursing him, but he didn't hear. Apparently, he was to report to the president's office for a mission.

---

AAAAHHH! I just realized something!!! First of all, CRISIS CORE SPOILERS AHEAD! DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU DON'T CARE! Now that you've been sufficiently warned, AAHHH! I didn't know about Lazard before I started this fic! So the president is really different... I don't know what to do. I mean, if he was acting so lovey-dovey with his wife, was it real, or was it just a facade? For those who don't know, Lazard is apparently Rufus' illegitimate older brother. And therefore, the president had some fun in the slums either before or during his marriage. I don't know what to think of that now... crap. I guess I'll figure something out. I can't change it now, so I'll just roll with it. I've got to figure out how to roll though...

And I changed SOLDIERs to SOLDIER. I noticed that it's said that way in Advent Children, and I think it's that way in the games and stuff. Kinda like "fish" is plural for "fish."

Again, please review! Comments, question, loves, hates, please tell me! I know I suck, but I need people to TELL me I suck before I do anything about it! =D


	4. A New Beginning

Ahhh, I took really long with this crap chapter T_T Well, I hope it doesn't kill you, there's no blood in this one. Such an original title, eh? Bleh. Enjoy.

I hate making president Shinra look like a good guy...

EDIT: Rufus is really mature for a 4 year old. I dumbed down his vocabulary a lil bit =P I hope that's enough...

A New Beginning

"I want him to be your top priority until further notice. Now go to his room, and make sure he's in bed by eight." The president turned back to his work without another word.

"Yes, sir." The boy said, hiding his bitterness. He turned on his heel, headed for the door, pressed the button, and let himself out. He strode toward the elevator, and punched the down button. He broke his train of thought for a moment-why was there an Up button? He shook his head. Maybe it went to the roof, where a helipad was. The elevator reached the top, and he stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind him as he turned around.

Yes, he was bitter. What did he expect, to be happy about his new assignment, his second mission in a day? Yes, he did. He had been hoping for something else exciting, like maybe a trip to Wutai, since there was so much trouble there anyway. But no, he was stuck with-he shuddered-babysitting.

The elevator reached the lower floor in no time, making the young Turk wonder why he had bothered. It would have taken half as long to run down the stairs. Then he remembered, he just hadn't wanted to. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about babysitting a three-year-old. The kid probably didn't even know what the hell was going on, that his own mother was dead. He didn't know that Shinra and Wutai were about to initiate a long and bloody war over said death. And he didn't know how desperately the Turks had searched for the culprit, to avenge his mother. No, he was probably babbling away in his room, playing with his gratuitous amounts of toys and luxuries. He was clueless.

Maybe that was a good thing. Tseng had no intention of dealing with a screaming crybaby, calling for his mother until further notice. That's what the president had said, "until further notice." That meant he had to babysit the brat indefinitely, forever maybe. His entire career was now confined to the very building he had longed to leave for the last year, an outcome he hadn't even thought of. The thought almost made him retch in the elevator. Only one thing stopped him, and that was the thought of getting his own retch all over his new Turk uniform. The doors opened, and he stepped out, heading down the hall.

This was the living quarters for guests, apparently. The room on the left at the end of the hall was now inhabited by a small boy, and the new Turk's destination. Now that he'd thought about it, Tseng understood why the boy might be screaming and crying when he arrived. One, his mother had been killed right in front of him. That was the big one. Two, he was left alone at the end of an empty hallway. Tseng winced; he had to be ready for anything now. If only he'd taken a babysitting class of some kind... he hadn't planned on guarding anyone under the age of being potty-trained. He reached the door, bracing himself for whatever would hit him.

He stopped his arm halfway as he reached for the button, listening. There was... nothing. No screaming, whining, sobbing, or any indication that there was sentient life inside the room. Was it soundproof? No, not in the guest's quarters, surely. He listened harder-he heard it. There was a boy's voice on the other side, almost inaudible. What was he saying? Was he talking to himself? Tseng listened harder, pressing his ear against the door. The voice was muffled, but clear. Maybe the boy was close to the door?

No, it _was_ sobbing. but only a little bit. He heard a voice after a moment. "Why... Daddy's being scary. And he said, mom..." He sobbed again.

Tseng's eyebrows furrowed. Did the boy know after all? He wasn't looking forward to this mission, not if it involved a crying three-year-old. But at the same time, he felt sorry for the little one. What _had_ Shinra done to warrant an attack like this? There was a pause... Tseng thought maybe the boy had gone to sleep, or merely silenced himself somehow. He reached for the button again, and once again pulled his arm back.

"No... no more crying, Daddy said. No more." He sniffed. "M-Maybe... if I'm good, Daddy will turn back to normal..." He sniffed, this time the sound more muffled than before. He was wiping his eyes, with his sleeve, maybe? There were small footsteps as the boy ventured farther into the room from where he had been, next to the door. Tseng's speculations were confirmed when he heard the footsteps. Inside, a bed thumped, as if a small boy had fallen on top of it. Had he calmed down...? Tseng hadn't expected this. He had been waiting for a barrage of high-pitched, childlike noises on his senses. But instead, nothing. So far. He reached for the button a last time, and pressed.

The door didn't open. Tseng was confused-was the circuit broken? He looked at the button, and realized something. It was a light, and it was off. Did that mean the button wouldn't work? He thought of going back to inform the president when he heard the boy inside.

"Who is it?"

Tseng hesitated. He didn't want to admit to the child that he was stuck outside, but he supposed he'd rather deal with the wrath of a child than the president. "It's Tseng, of the Turks. I'm here to, uh, be your bodyguard." He hoped that satisfied the boy inside.

"Turks? Come in," came the reply.

Tseng winced. He felt his pride being wrenched from his body as he uttered the reply, "The door won't open, sir." He used "sir" just in case. He might as well get used to it, since the kid was the future Vice President.

"Oh, I forgot! Wait a sec..." A thump came as the boy jumped from the bed, and ran over to the door. Tseng wondered what he was doing, until he saw the light blink on. He pressed the button, and the door slid open.

The boy was standing in the doorway, ready to meet his new bodyguard. "It can only be opened from the inside. Veld told me not to move until a Turk came to get me, or something." He scratched the side of his head with a finger, and let his arm fall.

Tseng stood there, trying to think of something to say, or do. Did he enter right now, or would the boy admit him? Did the boy have authority over him, and therefore demand the utmost respect? And even then, what did this "bodyguard" job entail? For crying out loud, this was a three-year-old. What did he have to do, play House? What the hell did kids _do_ in a rich family to entertain themselves? Hopefully this kid didn't have dolls...

"You can come in if you want," said the boy.

Tseng stood in the doorway, uncomfortably. What was he supposed to do? Was this an order, or did he really have a choice? Turks didn't move unless they were ordered to, and Tseng wasn't about to screw up on another mission today.

"H-Hello? Is anyone in there? Come on!"

That was a good enough order for him. The child turned to enter deeper into the room, headed towards his bed. Tseng followed, the door sliding shut behind him. The boy jumped back onto the bed, kicking his legs nervously and gripping his knees. Tseng stopped in front of the boy, unsure of what to do next. He was a babysitter, so was he an entertainer as well? He decided to simply do whatever this boy ordered him to do. He looked around, surveying his surroundings and assessing the situation. It was a good-sized room with a king-sized bed, fit for guests of the Shinra company. Why it was being used as a toddler's bedroom was beyond him. Though it must have been hard to accommodate the boy, considering there was no need for his own room at Shinra, since he had his own room at his own estate. There was a bathroom and dressing room off to the right, and a desk in front of the window at the back of the room. A small nightstand sat in the far left corner, next to the bed. The walls were painted a dark, maroon-red color, and the floor was a golden-yellow carpet. A framed picture of the Shinra insignia hung above the headboard, to complete the picture of powerful and wealthy hospitality.

Tseng saw that the curtains were drawn in front of the window-probably an act on Veld's part—to restrict any view into the room from outside. The situation looked secure; the boy would have said something if someone else was in the room, right? Nevertheless, the young Turk kept his guard up. He couldn't afford a failure on his first day of duty. Not only was this his first mission, but he held this young boy's life in his hands, protecting him from the same killers who got his mother.

Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself. He was a damn babysitter, what was he going to encounter, a diaper change? His life's aspirations had been thrown down the tubes when he accepted this mission. But did he really have a choice? If he had refused, he might have found himself looking for a new job, wasting the year he had spent in training. Then again, the sudden thought of changing diapers scared the Turk, and he banished the thought from his mind. He'd deal with it if it came.

"What's your name?"

Tseng turned to the small boy he was to be guarding from then on. The boy was looking at him with inquisitive eyes, and a small frown on his face. He had stopped kicking his legs, calming himself in front of another stranger, someone whose name he didn't even know. Tseng looked as the boy stared, wondering where this was going.

"Tseng."

The boy smiled. "That's right, you said that. You said 'It's Tseng, of the Turks.' Is that your real name?"

Tseng frowned. How did this kid know about fake names, and aliases and whatnot? Well, he _was_ the president's son, so it wasn't terribly surprising. But that he'd go out and _ask_ it was surprising.

"Yes."

"Is it Wutaian?"

Another blunt question. Well, as least the kid wasn't screaming, or crapping his pants. "Yes."

The boy frowned again. "I've never heard a name like that in Wutaian."

"It's a certain dialect that's rarely used."

"Where are you from?"

Tseng frowned with the boy. Should he really be giving away this much personal information? Oh well, the kid could probably find out anyway, with his connections. "Wutai. Southern region."

The boy was silent for a moment, looking at the floor. It seemed he'd run out of questions. Was that a good thing? Tseng stood still uncomfortably, willing himself to deal with the situation.

"Aren't you going to ask my name?"

Tseng looked back at the boy. Is that what he was doing, making simple conversation? Tseng hated the idea, but went along with whatever the kid came up with. "I assumed that honorifics would be enough, sir."

"You told me yours, but I didn't tell you mine. Don't you want to know who I am?" The boy looked him straight in the eyes with a look Tseng hadn't seen before—it was both hurt and demanding. In this situation, that was bad. He tried not to make things worse.

"I-I apologize, sir."

The boy still looked hurt. Tseng thought he would explode if the boy kept that glare in his eyes, his incredibly _blue_ eyes. Tseng found himself unable to look away, both because of the expression deep within them, and their sheer beauty. It was then that he noticed the pink and puffy eyelids around them. That's right, the child had been crying; It wasn't surprising. It was good however, that the child was taking it so well. Suddenly the eyes looked away once more, fixed to the floor.

"My name is Rufus. I don't like 'Sir.'"

"I'm sorry sir, it's a habit."

"Well stop it! Say Rufus."

"… I'm sorry… Rufus sir."

"That's not good enough! Take the 'sir' out."

"… I'm sorry sir."

"Urgh, you don't get it! Whatever…"

Tseng began to feel both annoyed and afraid at the same time, if that was possible. He was annoyed because a child would be so picky about his honorifics, and afraid that the child would use his father to punish him. And at the same time, if he didn't use 'sir', he could get in serious trouble. What was a poor young Turk to do? So he compromised. Now he just hoped it worked. Not only that, but he was surprised at the child's ability to comprehend and communicate. Well, it was to be expected from the president's son.

And what the hell was going on in that kid's head? His mother was dead, and he knew it. Or his father had told him something quite unpleasant, and thus led to the crying. But this kid… it was like nothing had happened at all. He had said something about his father acting "scary"—was he really that determined to please his father, that he had complete control over his emotions, and was acting completely professional? Save for the dislike of honorifics, that's what the boy as doing, being entirely professional. Tseng didn't like the thought, but Veld would probably tell him to learn from the boy, learn to control his emotions.

"What are you doing here?"

The boy was looking at him again. Looking again with that inquisitive look, those incredibly blue eyes. "I'm guarding your body," said Tseng, with little thought. He kicked himself mentally for the hundredth time that day for his lack of attentiveness, and hoped that the three-year-old in front of him wouldn't get any wrong ideas. Luckily, he didn't.

"I know that… why are you just standing there?"

"I have to be ready for anything, sir." Tseng was getting very uncomfortable with all the running around and standing still he'd done all day.

"You're just like Veld…"

_Well, that's a good thing—that means I'm a good Turk, right?_ Tseng thought.

The child huffed, "Just sit down somewhere. You wanna play something?"

Tseng had to force himself to keep his eyes from rolling out of his head. Did he really have to play House? Why was everything he didn't want to happen today happening?

The boy jumped off the bed—which was much too big for him—and walked over to the desk, where a small box sat. He picked it up and set it on the floor in front of him. He lifted the lid off and set it beside him. "I don't have much with me, but my soldiers are fun to play with. The captains are really cool." He held up one of the dolls with a red scarf around its neck, apparently a captain. He started pulling out a bunch of the toy soldiers, setting them up in a sort of formation.

Tseng looked on with his eyebrows knitted together, speechless. _Well, it's better than House._ He'd be blowing up people instead of baking cakes. Great. He sat down in front of the small boy, going along with his little game. Apparently they were off to go destroy a rebel faction who had turned against Shinra.

* * *

His eyes never left the phone for a second. He probably hadn't blinked for a couple minutes now, and didn't notice the pain from his eyes drying out. Many people say no news is good news, but right now, the president wanted some news. Veld hadn't contacted him for an hour, not since he'd left to lead the investigation. They were still looking for that one man… From what he'd heard, there was very little evidence that helped point to a culprit, since they could be anywhere in Midgar. The various construction sites scattered through each sector didn't help, either—they just made more hiding places for suspicious individuals. That, and the fact that the Turks still weren't entirely on the job, were killing the president. He could almost feel his hair turning gray and falling out with stress and anticipation.

However, Veld was a responsible Turk, and he would report back at specific times, whether there was news or not. Sure enough, the phone rang, and the president snatched it up, almost dropping it onto the desk in front of him. "What's the situation?" He asked, frantically.

He was disappointed to hear a woman's voice on the other end. It wasn't Veld, after all. When the hell was he going to report? "We've reached the house, sir. It's secure, and in perfect condition. We're waiting for orders, sir."

So, those people _were_ somewhat competent. They had been sent to inspect the house, and make sure it was okay. Next, he would decide what was to become of it. Apparently, he didn't want anyone living in it anymore, or at least his family.

"… Call Demolitions. I want that place flat by the end of the day. Leave everything inside." He ran his fingers through his hair.

"S-Sir?" Came the confused reply.

"You heard me, I want no trace of that place remaining."

There was a small hesitation. "What of the property, sir?"

The president thought for a moment. "Turn it into apartments, I don't care. Just destroy it, now."

He hung up. How many times in the last hour has someone called him for some stupid reason, like this one? He'd lost count. And there were bound to be even more, given his profession.

As if on cue, another call came in. He snatched it up, angrily, having no confidence that the person on the other side would be Veld. "What do you want?" He asked, with contempt.

It was man's voice this time, but not Veld's. It was only expected. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but the funeral plans have not been completed-"

"I told you, just cremate the body. There won't be any more planning. There will be no ceremony. I don't want to hear anything else about it."

The man was confused. "B-But sir, are you sure-"

"I'm positive!" Yelled the president. "Say no more about it, or I'll have your job."

"Y-Yes sir." The line went dead.

The president went back to rubbing his temples. Was there no end to the incompetence these people had? He, the president, had to control _everything_, or something was bound to go wrong. There were some times when he hated being the president. He hated the responsibility, the hierarchy, not to mention the _stupidity_ of everyone around him. These calls never seemed to end. Why didn't he just do everything himself, if they had to ask for his permission, or his guidance? But he was just one person, and running the whole world by himself would be impossible. And so he'd just go on dealing with these calls like a good presiden-

_Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiing._

He really hoped it wasn't something else depressing. He just didn't want to think anymore. He picked up the phone once again, with distaste. "President Shinra speaking."

There was a male on the other end. "Mr. President, I'm sorry to bother you, but the girl you sent to the front is not there. I cannot escort her."

This guy was probably an infantryman, a simple guard. The president frowned, wondering where the girl could have gone. "Where did she go?"

"I have no idea, sir. I was told to escort her to an apartment in the sector 5 slums, but I've been waiting here for a couple of hours. My superior told me not to worry about it, but..." he trailed off. He must have been extremely nervous, talking to the president himself.

"Perhaps she left of her own volition. If she doesn't want Shinra's help, then that's her problem. I have much more important things to attend to."

The man was very nervous, indeed. "Y-Yes sir. Thank you, sir." The line went dead.

Where the hell was that girl, anyway? Was Yori really that unappreciative of his offer? He grumbled, frustrated. She just didn't understand, did she?

That reminded him of the dumb press conference he would have to go to soon. Everyone wanted to know if Wutai was responsible for the assassination "attempt," and what would be done about them. People wanted to know if the president and his son were alright. Really, what was he supposed to tell them? "Oh, okay, we're fine, it's like nothing even happened. Thanks you for your concern, and keep buying our mako please." Yeah, that's basically what he had to say. Sure, he would get some mourning time, but people needed a strong leader that could take anything thrown at him. Once he started talking about the future, the people would totally forget about the present, and what just happened to him.

That was the thing. He could just give up, and go away to take care of his son. That's what he really wanted to do, besides getting revenge. But what would happen to the company in the hands of those incompetent fools like Heidegger and Scarlet? All they cared about was money, and weapons. Nobody would be able to run the company like President Shinra could. Nobody could do it right. And so, he was sacrificing his life, his happiness, for this stupid company. He did it for the people of Gaia, so they could live easier. He did it, and nobody would even care in the long run. Hell, he'd probably be assassinated for some stupid rebel organization's cause. Everything just seemed so pointless now.

But he still had Rufus. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure nothing ever happened to his son. He'd make sure Rufus knew all he needed to know, and was prepared for any type of situation, so he could take over the company when the time came. He'd make sure Rufus had a future full of love and peace. He wasn't doing it for the people anymore, but for his son. Nothing was more important.

_Brrrrrriiiiiiing._

There it went again. What more did these people have to bother him with? He picked up the phone. "President Shinra speaking."

"Sir, I have urgent news."

He jumped, and his eyes widened. It was Veld, finally. "What is it? What happened?"

"We have reports that several construction workers in sector 4 have gone missing. This could mean a few things."

"And what are those?"

"One is that they were killed or abducted when the culprit fled. Another is that they _were_ the culprits."

"What are you talking about? The only way that could be is if they were missing before the parade."

Veld was deathly serious, if that was any different than his usual tone of voice. "That's exactly what happened, sir. They've been missing since 12:24 PM. We know the description of these individuals, their addresses, and the like. The Turks are investigating the matter ask we speak."

The president was silent for a moment. "So, if you find these people, the culprit may be with them?"

"That is only my speculation, sir, but that is the best lead we've gotten so far."

There was silence once again. The president was elated, but still angry. Also, what if those reports were just a coincidence? But there was still hope, he had to keep telling himself that.

"Well then, keep up the good work, Veld. I'll be looking forward to any developments."

"Yes sir." The line went dead again. The president set the phone back down, and put his head in his hands. all he could do was wait, again. Well, he also had a press conference to go to. Great.

* * *

The gravel crunched under the man's boots as he paced back and forth in front of his friend. Everything was his fault, _everything._ Now they'd all be found, and their mission would fail.

"Man, what the hell did you _think_ would happen? What, with you runnin' around makin' noise all over-"

"Look, I said I was sorry, okay? How was I supposed to know we were being watched?"

"You're supposed to pay attention, idiot...

"Yeah, well, it's hard to keep track of every single person around you. Especially when you've checked your surroundings over and over, and found n_obody!" _He stopped pacing and faced his friend. "I did all I could, okay? Maybe we'll be safe here. Nobody should find us."

"But that _kid _saw you! You think he's gonna keep quiet about it?"

"I dunno. He looked like a rotten little redhead, though. Like he'd ask for a big price for the info. Hell, he might even come after me and try to blackmail or something. That's when we get him."

The two calmed down. There was no way they'd be found out just because of one little kid. But with the Turks and the army after them, and SOLDIER guarding all the exits to the city, there was no way to escape. They'd have to wait it out, until Shinra gave up, and called back their forces to attend to a more important issue.

The man looked up, and and a tiny stream of light reflected of of the frames of his glasses. "Please don't tell the boss about this. I don't think he'll react well to hearing that I may have destroyed years of planning in one moment." He held the cross hanging from his neck like a lifeline.

His burly friend smirked. "Don' worry, I got your back. But we gotta hide you, along with the other guys. I'm sure Shinra's made the connection between the missing workers and the assassination by now. You have any idea where they went?"

The man looked at the ground. "I dunno. I got a message from Cliff before all hell broke loose. He said it would be impossible to rendezvous with the rest of us."

The other man cursed. "Man, how are we gonna find them now? I told them to take phones-"

"And you know the risks that would come with that. Tracking, interception, et cetera..."

"Yeah, and only you would know about that." The man frowned at his maroon-haired friend.

The man smirked in return. "Well, nobody's better at that kind of stuff than me, of course. But seriously, we should try to find everyone. And keep a look out for that kid!" He jabbed a finger at his friend, for emphasis. "He's got scraggly red hair and a squirt gun, and probably a stupidly arrogant grin on his face. If you see him, take him out. Or better yet, capture him, so we can find out if he told anyone."

"Right-o, meet back here in an hour, got it?"

"Right."

They parted, heading off in opposite directions. The maroon-haired man ducked around a corner into an alley when a Shinra infantryman passed by. He smirked. Like they'd find anyone using the army. Those guys weren't trained for anything other than being a meat-shield. They'd have no chance against what was coming for them.

He was having second thoughts though. The mission failed today, and he may have started a war. Wutai wasn't even responsible for the screw up, and they would pay for it. Some people were so _stupid_ sometimes. Then again, if the woman hadn't seen him, she might still be alive right now. And the president would be dead, instead. The mission would have been a success, and nobody else would have to suffer. Shinra would fall without its leader, and the world would be saved. But now it would just suffer through a long and bloody war. Wutai wouldn't give up under any circumstances, and Shinra would decimate its entire population if need be. How many people would die because of his stupid mistake?

He shook his head. After the infantryman passed around another corner, he ran on. He decided not to think about it. After all, if they didn't fight for the Planet, a future much worse would come to pass. All of humanity would die, along with every living organism on the Planet. It didn't matter how they stopped Shinra now-the ends justified the means.

* * *

Tseng looked from his captains getting blown away to see Rufus wiping his eyes, They were wet, but the small boy looked to be trying to hide that fact. The boy sniffed, and yawned.

"Sir, it's getting late, and it's my responsibility to make sure you're in bed by eight o' clock."

Rufus looked up at him, tiredly. He hadn't been too enthusiastic about playing with his dolls-action figures, as he called them-and wouldn't eat much when dinner was sent up for him. The boy was having problems, that much he could tell. But what was a thirteen, almost fourteen-year-old supposed to do about it? Tseng wasn't a therapist, his job wasn't to make anyone feel better. He was a bodyguard. But he didn't like to see anyone in this sort of situation.

When the boy looked down again, he groaned, and didn't do anything. Tseng took the initiative, since the president's orders superseded any the boy would give him. "Sir, you need to get some sleep. Stand up." He stood, but the boy still didn't respond. "Sir..." Was he supposed to physically move the child, and put him to bed? Why did his job description have to be so vague? He'd have to ask Veld about it later.

"Call me Rufus."

Tseng looked at the boy, exasperatedly. He may have to compromise his beliefs to keep his job. "Rufus, sir..."

The boy grumbled. "You still don't get it. Just say Rufus. That's it." He looked up, that painful look boring into Tseng's soul. The young Turk was almost powerless in the face of it. He had to keep his composure, though, if he wanted to get this stubborn kid into bed on time.

"Rufus. You need sleep. People die from lack of sleep, did you know that?"

The boy frowned, almost questioningly. Then his expression softened to a more apathetic look. It killed Tseng to see such a young child with that sort of expression on their face. "Okay..." Rufus said, with a hint of disappointment and sadness in his voice. He stood, and went towards the huge bed that now belonged to him, and tried to take off his coat.

After a few failed attempts at getting the buttons undone, Tseng walked over to help. At first, Rufus grumbled, saying he could do it himself. But he knew better, and capitulated. Soon, Tseng took his bleached white jacket, and hung it in the closet. When he saw Rufus struggling with his shoes, he went over and easily undid the knots, setting the shoes inside the closet. He turned and walked back to the bed, where Rufus was already tucking himself in. The blankets were heavy and too large for such a small boy to move, so Tseng helped once again. When the boy was all comfortable and snuggled into the covers, the Turk felt a little better. He hadn't had much trouble with this child. But at the same time, he was disappointed. He wouldn't be seeing any real action any time soon. He stood up straight, and bowed his head to his new superior. "Good night, sir." He started toward the door.

"Wait."

He stopped, irritated. The kid was in bed, what more did he want, a bedtime story?

"Mom always reads me a story."

Tseng flinched. Why, _why_ did the universe hate him so? All he wanted was to get to bed himself... he turned back around, and answered. "I don't see any books here, sir."

"So make one up."

Tseng was dumbfounded. How the hell was he supposed to know any bedtime stories? He wasn't that creative, either. He could shoot, track, and protect anything he needed to, bu he couldn't make up a stupid story. He wondered if he should go get Shuriken, but decided against it. "Allright, sir..."

Tseng started off nervously, as expected. "Uhh... Once upon a time, there was a little boy, named, uh... Rufus."

Rufus looked at him, an eyebrow raised. Tseng mentally kicked himself for the billionth time that day for his poor choice of words. "A-And, uh, he was the son a a powerful man, who was the... uh... leader of the tribe. And Rufus really liked to run and play with his friends, but he had responsibilities to attend to first. Like training. He had to become a mighty warrior, so he could, uh, defeat the evil Lord-"

"Scarlet." Rufus broke in.

Tseng raised his eyebrow, and went along with it. "Yes, the evil Lord Scarlet. Scarlet was causing trouble in the... the Department of Urban Development, trying to build large amounts of

carefully-placed turret guns, to keep their enemies from attacking the headquarters."

"Tseng, why does a tribe have a headquarters, and guns?"

Tseng frowned. "Um... it's complicated. They were about as advanced as we are, but they decided to be simple at the same time. But Scarlet wanted more and more power, and started to take over the tribe little by little. It was Rufus' job to keep her from her goal of ruling the world. And so, one day, Rufus was strong enough to fight Scarlet. Her forces were many in number, but they were no match for Rufus and his immense strength and agility. He broke into Scarlet's secret hideout, and held her hostage, forcing her to sign a treaty with the rest of the tribe, taking away her role as Weapons Development department chair. The end."

Tseng looked over at the boy, relieved to see that his story was so boring, and made so little sense, that he was already asleep. He turned and walked towards the door once more. He opened it, and set it so only he could unlock it from the outside. The he turned back to the sleeping toddler, his new charge.

"Goodnight, sir." He turned, and the door slid shut behind him.

* * *

He sighed in relief as he walked back down the hall to the elevator. He was about to hit the Down button when he noticed a message on his phone. It was from Veld.

_Good work on the investigation today. We found many good leads thanks to you. Keep up the good work. Also, your apartment has been moved from the Turk's floor to the room next to Rufus Shinra's. There's a code on the door, 77253. It corresponds to your name, in case you forget it. Good luck, rookie._

Tseng looked at that last part with pride; the first little sliver of pride he'd felt since his career started that day. He smiled, for the first time in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay.

EDIT: Uhh, Ima stupid. The Science Department is on the 67th floor, not the Turks. So I moved them to the 65th floor. I hope that's fine... I said 67th in chapter 2, so I need to change that. Blegh.


End file.
